#going to slash my life expectancy in half watching this game no matter the result... our upcoming schedule is brutal good god

[juergenklopp]

do you think the eagles or chiefs are winning on monday?

The Curse of the Wheel™️ has landed on the Chiefs... I believe in our lord and savior Brandon Perna EAGLES BY A GAZILLION BIRDS COUNTRY LET'S RIDE

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Funny, Crack and Humour Fics (Part 1)

I’ve been reading your johnlock fan fic recs for quite sometimes and it had been amazing!!

Can you suggest me some fics which are funny and smutty?or just fun to read?

(submitted by @eclecticcolordreamhairdo)

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jonlokfe asked: Hi Steph, do you have a fan fiction Johnlock humor? O partys with scotland yard?

——–

Hi Lovelies!

Ahh, I’ve gotten a lot of requests lately for funny fics, and I’ve decided to finally just update it. I did a list a LONG time ago, but just never updated it since then. So I guess that’s what I’m doing this time around!

Because I have SO MANY FICS that all the links disappeared, I’m going to release this list in 2 Parts: First half is today, and next weekend I’ll post up the other half of the list <3

So enjoy this week’s list: the shorter fics :)

FUNNY, CRACK, and HUMOUR FICS (Part 1)

See also: Funny and Fluffy Stories

This Kiss by suitesamba (T, 731 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Drunkenness, Angst, Stag Night) – Stag Night - back at 221B - in a world where Mrs. Hudson doesn’t interrupt the guessing game with the client. Part 1 of The “This” Series

Reunited by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 753 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Reunion) – Everything is falling right back into place, but it’s just a little too quick for John. One-shot, drabble, non-slash.

Cigarettes and Shampoo by laura0506 (T, 783 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship) – John goes to the shops to meet someone he wasn’t supposed to.

Concussions And Good Old Fashioned Awkwardness by Belldere (K+, 894 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Hospitals, Mild John Whump, Misunderstandings, Platonic Relationship, Concussions, Not-Gay John, Possessive Sherlock) – When John lands himself in hospital… again, all he wants is to just get out of there as soon as possible, too bad his doctor has other ideas about where John may be getting his injuries. Good thing concussions make everything strangely funnier.

A Need To Know Basis by mattsloved1 (G, 934 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Romance) – As the cab door shut firmly, the DI had yelled out they were to make an appearance at Scotland Yard the next day. It was while John watched London pass by that it happened.

Tidying Up by mattsloved1 (K+, 951 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship) – John comes home to a thoroughly cleaned flat. Or so it seems.

Realisation by Susie.Donym (K+, 957 w., 1 Ch. || Sally POV, Pre-Slash / Friendship, Humour) – It takes her a while but Sally finally makes a huge realisation.

Texts and Tea by JillianWatson1058 (K, 959 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Texting, Humour, Fluff, POV John, Cranky John) – A John who is woken up at 2:30 in the morning is not a happy John. Sherlock, frankly, doesn’t care. He just wants his tea.

My Unfortunately Average Sized Cranium by Haelia (K+, 996 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Headache, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Past Drug Use, Doctor John) – In which Sherlock has a migraine. ALMOST Johnlock. Not quite.

Secrets by 796116311389 (G, 1,084 w., 1 Ch. || Drunk Sherlock, Drunk Confessions, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Pining Sherlock) – “He is the best person in the world and sometimes I get sad because I’m not. Not his best person.”

Mizzle by MrsNoggin (K, 1,233 w., 1 Ch || Friendship, Fluff, Platonic Johnlock, Humour, Slice of Life) – John can’t decide if it’s raining or not. Sherlock doesn’t understand.

Hallucinations can’t open doors by Bespectacled dreamer (K+, 1,330 w., 1 Ch. || Reunion, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Hallucinations, John’s Wedding, Light Humour) – In which John gets married and Sherlock gets a broken nose.

God Save The Queen by Alice Day (K+, 1,398 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Mystery, Friendship) – Sherlock has a new case. John is petrified. The Queen is amused.

Out on da pull by I-O-U-a-picture (T, 1,375 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship) – John going ‘out on da pull’ and getting so close to getting digits so many times but Sherlock just conveniently keeps turning up prattling on about eyeballs in the microwave…

Three Ways Sherlock Conformed to His Stereotype by Jennistar1 (K+, 1,445 w.,  1 Ch. || Humour, Cranky Sherlock) – “It’s a hat.” / Urge to roll eyes, quashed. “Yes. I can see that.” / “It’s called a deerstalker.”

You Should Have Let Me Sleep! by theraggedypond (T, 1,542 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Sleepy Sherlock, Cranky Sherlock, Domestics) – After a three day case with no sleep and hardly any food, Sherlock is recovering from it by playing comatose. John finds out what happens when you wake up London’s favorite consulting detective.

Happy Birthday John by Starlight05 (K, 1,580 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, John’s Birthday, Shopping, 3rd Person POV John) – When an important date comes up, Sherlock finds himself doing something he never has before - shopping! But will he succeed and manage to get his best friend a present?

and yes I said yes I will Yes by Mithen (T, 1,662 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Est. Rel. Marriage Proposal) – Sherlock has deduced that John is going to propose to him, and he’s ready to accept. If only John would actually get around to it…

You Can Imagine The Christmas Dinners by johnsarmylady (T, 1,780 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Family, Introspection, Fluff, Post-ASIP) – Set the morning after a Study in Pink, John sits and contemplates Mycroft’s words.

In Which John is a BAMFy MoFo, OMG! by Kantayra (T, 1,835 w., 1 Ch. || Humour) – John’s BAMFness and Sherlock’s damsel-in-distress act are caught forever on camera. So Scotland Yard can mock. A lot.

The Video Footage by bitchinblackframedglasses (K, 1,894 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Fluff, ASiB Missing Scene) – What exactly DID Lestrade film Sherlock doing in A Scandal in Belgravia? Sherlock wants to know, and John tells him.

The Adventure of the Mysterious Appearance of Tissues by Gwen’s Blue Box (K+, 1,910 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Sick John, Caring Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort) – In which there is a case, John has caught a cold and is not interested in investigating, Mrs Hudson is away and Sherlock does the shopping.

Baskerville After Dark by Ttime42 (T, 1,921 w., 1 Ch. || THoB, Friendship, Humor, Bed Sharing, Missing Scenes, Cranky John, Cuddles) – John and Sherlock have to share a bed at Baskerville. Gen, but can be preslash.

Text Me When It’s Over by immaculately-flawed  (K+, 1,937 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Post-TRF, Texting, Sort-Of Pining Sherlock) – After the fall Sherlock starts writing texts to John. Of course, he never sends them… Until he does by accident. Post Reichenbach fic but not angsty.

Cards by Caighlee (K+, 1,954 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Games) – Sherlock has been without a case for a few days and Molly’s suggested experiment - something with a pig head (ew) - is losing it’s appeal. Can John come up with something that’ll distract Sherlock for a bit longer? And how did John pull off that card trick? Sherlock’ll never know because a magician never tells a secret. Except maybe when faced with a smiling Consulting Detective.

The Perfect Place by SilverSmile (K+, 1,955 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Romance, 5 and Ones, Fluff, Experiments, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock attempts to find the perfect place to sleep, but his little experiment proves to be far more difficult than expected.

They’re Taking My Wisdom by whitchry9 (K+, 1,939 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Drugging, Dentists, Friendship, Anxious Sherlock, Humour) – Sherlock goes to the dentist. Of course, being Sherlock, things have to be complicated. Oh and drugs. They’re always fun.

Foresight by niffler09 (K, 2,015 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Holmes Brother Bickering) – It’s raining and neither John nor Sherlock have an umbrella so they huddle under Sherlock’s coat. And then Mycroft walks past and makes smartass remarks.

Caught in the Act – by Mycroft by ShirleyCarlton (E, 2,040 w., 1 Ch. || Unintended Voyeurism, Mycroft’s POV, Blow Job, Humour) – Mycroft had only planted the camera for Sherlock’s own good, simply to keep an eye on his little brother and make sure he was alright. He hadn’t quite meant to see his brother this content, however… Part 4 of Caught In The Act

Never Have I Ever by Hannelore-Grace (T, 2,073 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Drinking Games) – In which the Yarders, Sherlock, and John play the time-honored drinking game.

Denial Isn’t Just a River in Egypt by satanatemycat (T, 2,107 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Texting, Bored/Cranky Sherlock) – In which John makes a bet with a co-worker. If he wins, she shuts up about him and Sherlock being a couple. If he loses… well, that doesn’t matter, because he won’t lose. Because he and Sherlock ARE NOT a couple. Right?

The Imminent Danger of a Tumblr-Night by Loveismyrevolution (T, 2,135 w., 1 Ch. || Tumblr Fics, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock is Out of His Depth, Humour, Fluff, Pining Sherlock, Military Kink, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock gets into trouble when he pretends to know all about John’s favourite social media site - tumblr. To save face he seeks help from one of the bloggers and gains more answers than he had aimed for.

At Least Make It Interesting by amythedork (K, 2,140 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Angst) – “You’ve reached Sherlock Holmes. For the love of God, if you’re going to leave a message, at least make it an interesting one. If this is Mycroft, then piss off.” / A series of voicemails John left Sherlock throughout their time together.

The Case of the Missing Blogger by nicknack22 (K, 2,147 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, Friendship, Worried / Anxious Sherlock) – Alternately titled, The Case of the Oblivious Consulting Detective. In which Sherlock comes out of his mind palace to discover John missing. 221B does not fair well as a result.

Spilt Milk by Erin Giles (K+, 2,222 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort) – John comes back from a trip to the supermarket only to take a trip up the stairs. Both shopping and blood are spilled leaving Sherlock to play the role of Doctor.

A Study in Lace by KarlyAnne (E, 2,320 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Crafty Sherlock, Tiny Lace Panties / Lingerie, Domestics, Experiments, Oral, Masturbation) – “Why do you suppose he was doing that?” “Why do I suppose who was doing what?” “The room. The lace. The secrecy. He was playing with fire in everything he did, and didn’t care one bit. But he had a secret chamber, carefully concealed, solely for the purpose of making lace lingerie. Obviously for personal use. Why?“ Part 1 of The Unintentional Crafts of Sherlock Holmes

Reunions, Rowdiness and Phone Calls by Jennistar1 (T, 2,348 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Drunk John, Low-Key Pining Sherlock) – John goes on a school reunion and gets drunk. Sherlock solves some crimes and gets some interesting phone calls.

Work On Your Balance by speculate (K+, 2,448 w., 1 Ch. || Embarrassed Sherlock, “For A Case”, Skating, Fluff, Friendship, Humour) – In which John is actually pretty good at ice skating, Sherlock’s not and insists it’s all for a case , and Lestrade is pretty amused by it all.

Wintery Hell by Belldere (K+, 2,457 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship & Humour, Christmas) – With Sherlock being roped into spending Christmas with his family, John had his own Christmas all planned out with his other friends and family… That is until he’s extended a forceful invitation from Mycroft and an assumption from Sherlock who, once again, failed to notice John wasn’t in the room when he 'asked’.

Manipulation by sixbynine (K+, 2,566 w., 1 Ch. || Experimenting John, Reverse Psychology) – John Watson is not as unobservant as Sherlock thinks, nor is he above using what he knows. Even if it is just to make sure Sherlock eats and sleeps.

Not Rocket Science by Nitrospira (T, 2,571 w., 1 Ch. || Drama, Humour) – Sherlock and John Watson are handcuffed to a bed while investigating a double homicide on the International Space Station. But Sherlock isn’t sure which is more tedious: a killer on the loose or John’s endless complaints.

Nothing Left Untouched by ForeverShippingJohnlock (K+, 2,617 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Romance, Bed Sharing, Oblivious Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Grumpy John, Fluff and Cuddles) – Sherlock rearranges the flat. So what if John’s bedroom is now a research library. It’s not like John needs a bedroom, he can share with Sherlock. They’re friends and John has obviously slept in close quarters with men before and it’s not like Sherlock sleeps much anyway. It’ll be fine.

Insomnia by TheSingingGirl (K+, 2,635 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Bed Sharing, Sleepy Sherlock) – Sleep is merely the next frontier in what has become the battle to keep Sherlock alive. It’s because of this that John ends up in bed with a sociopath.

John’s Drawers by JezebelGoldstone (T, 2,646 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, First Kiss, Romance, Humour) – Sherlock snoops through John’s drawers and finds something… unexpected.

BBCSH 'The Comfort of Company’ by tigersilver (T, 2,769 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF/Mary, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Bed Sharing, Grumpy John, Touching, Clingy/Handsy Sherlock, Cranky Sherlock, Fluff and Light Angst) – It’s a trope that John and Sherlock end up sharing in the same bed eventually and I admit I do adore it unconditionally, along with all it infers as to the lowering of defenses and the heightening of trust. I put forth for your consideration that the notion persists because those who think about these things realize these two men are each in dire need of some good company.

Bored Games by patster223 (K+, 2,769 w., 1 Ch. || Cluedo / Board Games, Friendship, Humour) – Sherlock is bored and John decides that they should play Cluedo. In retrospect, it was a truly awful decision.

Your love it feels so good by Hotaru_Tomoe (E, 2,843 w., 1 Ch. || Gay Club / Gay Bar, Lingerie, Stripping, Anal, Crossdressing, Strip Tease, First Time) – Sherlock is last at a quiz night and is forced by Anderson to perform in a gay stripclub. John must be with him, because he will have to record the performance. Sherlock takes the task very seriously. Part 20 of The English job

Tipsy by katkin (T, 2,781 w., 2 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Drunk Sherlock) – "I love everyone in this room,” he announced proudly.“I know you do, buddy,” John replied “Which is why you’re going to clean this carpet in the morning. Because you’re a good friend.” “I am a good friend!” Sherlock agreed.

All in a Day by chappysmom (K+, 2,920 w., 1 Ch. || Kidnapping, Sherlock POV,  Humour, Light Angst, BAMF John) – Oddly enough, it seemed like this time, Sherlock had been kidnapped for no other reason than to pressure John. In other words, this had nothing to do with him. Really, this on top of the blow to the head was enough to make him dizzy.

33 by Indigo Blue.x (K+, 2,936 w., 1 Ch. || Humour) – “I haven’t made a zombie,” Sherlock says scathingly, which would be more convincing if there were not a zombie in the flat.

Right Foot Red by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (E, 3,089 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss/Time, Board Games, Frottage, Masturbation, PWP, Friends to Lovers, Come as Lube, Come Marking) – …ok, it’s juvenile, but at least it’s a game where touching is allowed. And if something more were to happen, well, John can’t say he’d be too upset about that. “What are the rules of this game?” Sherlock asks, the disdain evident on the word ‘game’. “I spin, you do as I say.” John thinks he sees a slight widening of those pale grey eyes at that, just for a fraction of a second, before it is shut down. Oh, this is interesting, he thinks.

The Sweetest Taste In The World by crossroads (G, 3,121 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Jealous Sherlock, Fluff, Pining, Friends to Lovers) – The sweetest taste in the world is rarely ever the easiest to come by.

How to Court Your Blogger by PipMer (K+, 3,124 w., 1 Ch.  || Romance, Humour, Fluff) – Sherlock Holmes sets out to court his flatmate. Things might progress more rapidly if he would inform said flatmate of his intentions.

Entanglement by orphan_account (G, 3,218 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Confessions, Physics, Texting, Christmas, Mind Palace, Sick Fic, Fluff, Humour, Holidays) - On Christmas Eve, snow covers London, John visits Harry, and Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson untangle some knots.

Bathroom Accessories by Evenlodes_Friend (E, 3,324 w., 1 Ch. || Sex Toys, Butt Plug, First Kiss / Time, Romance, Horny Sherlock, John’s Patience Wears Thin, Humour, Bottomlock) – John discovers that Sherlock has been playing with some very adult toys in the bath.

Apodyopsis by QuinnAnderson (E, 3,347 w.,1 Ch. || PWP, Rough Sex, Table Sex, Anal, Sexual Tension) – Apodyopsis: (æpəʊdaɪˈɒpsɪs) noun. the act of mentally undressing someone. Part 2 of Undressed

Twas The Night by xox-hattii-xox (K+, 3,356 w., 1 Ch. || Humour & Friendship, Christmas, Domestics, Fluff) – Twas the night before Christmas…and Sherlock has had just about enough of the whole thing! 'Really, John, a Santa Hat’ Christmas in 221b, and Sherlock just wants it over with.

The Second Law of Thermodynamics by entanglednow (T, 3,614 w., 1 Ch. || Asexual Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Sharing Body Heat) – In which there’s no heating and there’s a dead owl in Sherlock’s bed. Part 1 of Thermodynamics

Doesn’t Follow Me Everywhere by Janec Shannon (T, 3,784 w., 1 Ch. || Humour and Friendship) – “He doesn’t follow me everywhere, you know.” Silly John, of course he does what with your penchant for getting kidnapped.

Paranoia by Ewebie (M, 3,789 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Drinking Games, Scotland Yard Gang, Jealous / Possessive Sherlock, Inappropriate Questions, Embarrassed John, Matchmakers) – John and Sherlock join the gang of Scotland Yard for a night of drinking, and it gets a bit personal and revealing.

Equine Arse Anonymity by Kayjaykayme (E,  3,834 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Public Sex, Coming in Pants, Humour, Halloween, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock needs to speak with suspects at a fancy dress ball. He chooses a couple’s costume for himself and John. It is logical, practical and well thought out. John doesn’t agree and exacts sweet revenge.

Well Begun Is Half Done by Avice (E, 3,897 w.,1 Ch. || Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Anal/Oral, Seduction, John in Charge, Pining Sherlock, John’s Penis, Bottomlock) – Sherlock is putting together an elaborate plan of seducing John. John grows tired of waiting and takes matters into his own hands.

Jukebox by standbygo (T, 3,990 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Singing/Music, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Humour, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss) – After the music halls of Sherlock’s mind palace get damaged by accident, John learns that Sherlock never forgets a song. Even the ones he’d rather forget. But the random singalong brings some unexpected benefits.

Tree Topper by May_Shepard (E, 4,017 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas Tree, Christmas Fluff, Drunken Shenanigans, Smut, First Time, Friends to Lovers) – Sherlock and John are celebrating Christmas the best way they know how–alone together, with booze. They’ve almost finished decorating their tree, but John is determined to find the best way to top it.

The Oolong Disaster by unicornpoe (T, 4,151 w., 1 Ch. || John’s Beard, Fluff, Humour, Frustrated Sherlock, John Takes Care of Sherlock, Case Fic-ish, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Possessive Sherlock) – John has a beard. Sherlock has a panic attack.

Sherlock Holmes and the Mysterious Piercing by Lorelei_Lee (E, 4,130 w., 1 Ch. || Travelling, Sherlock is Loud, Secrets, Genital Piercing, First Time, Licking, Coming Nearly Untouched) – John discovers by chance that Sherlock has a piercing. To his surprise John can’t stop thinking about it…

Date Night by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 4,451 w., 1 Ch. || Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Caring John, Schmoopy Fluff, Fidget Cube, Baking / Cooking, Date Night, Established Relationship, POV Sherlock Holmes, Understanding John, Grumpy Sherlock, John’s Bum, Kisses, Hugs, Domestic Fluff, Touching, Hair Petting, Light Humour) – It’s John and Sherlock’s first Date Night as an official couple and Sherlock needs it to be PERFECT. Mrs Hudson helps. Part 7 of I-J’s Tumblr Ficlet Collection

The Care and Keeping of Your Mad Genius by Janieshi (T, 4,553 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG, Friendship, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Light Humour/Teasing, Alternating POV, Cranky Sherlock) – If he hadn’t been so focused on holding the bastard still, John would have laughed aloud. This maniac really thought John was the pet in this dynamic?

Because Blah Blah Blah Happy by cwb (E, 4,578 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Cuddles, Kissing, First Kiss, Requited Love, Pining Sherlock) – John is entirely done with the milk situation and gives Sherlock a list of shit he’s pissed about. Sherlock sets out to make John happy. John is happy. Sherlock makes his own list. They are both very, very happy.

Carry On by Mazarin221b (M, 4,647 w., 1 Ch. || 5 and Ones, H/C, Afghanistan, Frottage, Hand Jobs, First Time, Drunk John, Hospitals, Humour, Soft Sex) – Five times John didn’t want to be carried, and one time he did.

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 5,034 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing… rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same…

[mylordshesacactus]

An Exhaustive Blow-By-Blow Analysis Of The ‘To Catch A Jedi’ Warehouse Duel That Was Definitely Asked For And Desired By People Other Than Us: An Essay By Alex And Jo

Or: It Is The Year Of Our Lord Two Thousand FUCKING Twenty, And Yet Here We Are, At The End Of All Things, Still Analyzing Barriss Offee’s Terrible Life Decisions.

Yes we’ve been saying we’d do this for the past five years minimum yes we’re girls what about it.

Before we begin, a moment of acknowledgement. Of all the people she’s faced, with all her skill and cunning and strength in the Force, the one and only character we have ever seen completely get the drop on Asajj Ventress--take her out without even giving her time to go for her lightsabers, stone cold, no duel no banter no challenge—

Is BARRISS FUCKING OFFEE. DEPENDABLE BARRISS™. LUMINARA UNDULI’S KID. THE NERD WHO MEMORIZED THE ENTIRE INSIDE OF A GEONOSIAN LABYRINTH, YOU KNOW, JUST IN CASE.

WITH A PIPE.

In the library.

And once she’s done that, this happens:

...and Jo and Alex spend the next seven years going absolutely feral. 

A brief moment now where we drag Ahsoka for failing to notice that in the last ten minutes Asajj Ventress has somehow managed to lose about six inches of height. But of course she doesn’t; the entirety of To Catch a Jedi is spent establishing that Ahsoka is firing on zero cylinders. She’s exhausted—she’s probably been awake for over 24 hours at this point—she’s confused, she’s scared, her entire world is crumbling all around her and she doesn’t understand why. So we see her make slip-up after slip-up, making a lot of stupid mistakes that get her noticed by the Coruscant police, and also briefly forgetting how elevators work.

“I, uh, guess I’m not exactly on my game these days.”

So...yeah. She doesn’t notice Asajj’s height loss or the real damning difference: Barriss is completely silent the entire fight, and Asajj never shuts the fuck up.

Of course, Barriss doesn’t need this deception to be perfect. She just needs to make it believable enough. This little Makashi salute—a duelist’s formality, something that screams Dooku—is the first little Ventress-y quirk she throws in, and that’s relevant, because it’s central to her entire motivation for this fight.

Barriss isn’t here to kill Ahsoka.

Barriss is here to save her life.

...Like, she’s bad at it. She’s making horrible decisions that keep getting worse. But there’s a reason she’s disguising herself as Ventress—Ventress is the perfect catspaw, and Barriss desperately needs a catspaw right now, because Ahsoka was never meant to take the fall for the bombing.

Letta went off-script and came within inches of naming Barriss—who, going by the timing, was almost certainly already infiltrating that secure facility (which...gotta respect the skill that took, at least) to silence her—or free her, we don’t know what Barriss intended but we’re not giving her that much benefit of the doubt right now. If she hadn’t called for Ahsoka as quickly as she did, Letta would have died alone in her cell, killed by a nameless Force-user, and the trail would have gone cold.

Instead Ahsoka was there, and when Barriss was faced with a choice between her actions being exposed and letting Ahsoka take the blame, she took the latter. But then Barriss breaks her out, with every indication being that something...went very wrong, as the situation spirals out of control. It’s obvious that Barriss is in the vents during that escape because the clones in Ahsoka’s path keep mysteriously dying and their wounds are fresh, and also there’s no more convenient interference once she gets outside. So now Ahsoka’s free but the subject of a planetwide manhunt that makes her look even MORE guilty…which wasn’t meant to happen.

Remember that Ahsoka is the one who contacted Barriss for help, and Barriss clearly wasn’t expecting it. She spends most of this episode desperately flailing for something, anything to do to fix all this, and she’s lost until she discovers Ahsoka is now with Ventress.

Ventress. Ventress is a darksider. If Ventress is linked to this at all, people will believe it. Ventress could easily have gotten into that prison—through the vents, someone would inevitably have suggested, and probably discovered whatever lightsaber sabotage Barriss used to get in. Case closed. 

So all Barriss has to do to fix this without coming clean is frame Ventress believably. Then the person being executed will...well it’ll only be Asajj Ventress, and she deserves it, right? 

(Asajj Ventress--and all those clones Barriss killed in the breakout. And that’s very telling. Barriss who memorized 800 junctions of a Geonosian labyrinth for one singular mission, because “other people’s lives” depended on her success, doesn’t seem to have factored in the lives of those clones. They don’t seem to be registering in these calculations.)

The point is that Ahsoka’s name will be clear and Barriss’ will never have been in danger.

If you watch that short opening bout, before Ahsoka kicks her away, it’s...well, in Luminara’s words, amateurish and sloppy. All the blows, including that ostensibly fatal double-overhead strike, are DRAMATICALLY telegraphed. In a few cases, she is visibly missing on purpose:

This strike right here? This strike is HILARIOUSLY transparent in slow motion. She has an opening and instead sweeps her lightsabers ALL THE WAY back on the opposite side; and when she brings them down again…

Apologies for the motion blur but—Ahsoka moves to block and MISSES, which doesn’t matter because the blades were like a full foot away from actually making contact with her body. Barriss is striking at her lightsabers half the time for this first flurry of action, before letting Ahsoka break away for that salute. And this is not an animation error. TCW has plenty of those, but they know how to choreograph a lightsaber duel.

So the goal of this fight is very clearly not to kill Ahsoka. It’s to LOOK like she’s trying to kill Ahsoka, while mostly just trying to attract attention and act as much like Ventress as she possibly can.

As a result, Barriss spends a lot of the fight creating space. She pulls a sheet of metal down at Ahsoka, while gesturing dramatically to telegraph her intentions and give Ahsoka plenty of time to dodge:

And then she runs away to a higher level, letting Ahsoka pursue and then hiding.

This fucking pipe trick is NOT a Ventress thing, mind. This is 100% Mirialan using-the-environment bullshit and also, Barriss, a massive bitch move. We’re pointing it out mostly because of how dramatically Ahsoka JUMPS here. Because...listen, she’s better than this. She’s a wartime Padawan. She’s Anakin Skywalker’s wartime Padawan. She has way more duelling experience than a Jedi of her age normally would, and in a vacuum—in a normal sparring situation, where they’re both rested and prepared for it—Ahsoka would probably beat Barriss nine times out of ten in a duel.

This is anything but a vacuum. As we established, Ahsoka is firing on zero cylinders, she’s exhausted, she’s in the midst of a complete mental breakdown, she’s lost her offhand blade, and she doesn’t know the layout of the area like Barriss does. Ahsoka may be a more skilled and experienced duellist, but in this situation that means exactly fuckall. So Barriss runs rings around her.

So after the pipe trick—again a “cinematic” detail, something to ramp up the tension and sell the deception that otherwise has massive holes in it—Barriss gets in ONE solid blow.

Ahsoka’s off-balance, she’s blocking with both hands, Barriss could use her primary to slice under her guard—

At which point she does a FUCKING CARTWHEEL over the point of contact, which is not REMOTELY a Ventress thing, that is all Luminara Unduli all the time. That is the Mirialan Unnecessary Acrobatics Bonus Action.

And then again, a sloppy midsection slash that was nowhere near connecting and serves entirely to create space. A few more standard telegraphed blows.

And then what we generally refer to as the first turn in this duel.

Barriss roundhouse-kicks Ahsoka in the ribs hard enough to send her flying through a stack of boxes and bounce off the wall behind it. And that was an actual, solid injury. Ahsoka takes a moment to get back to her feet, clutching her side like she’s broken ribs, and her already-poor form takes even more of a dive after this. If Barriss wanted to, she easily could have killed Ahsoka here, but instead...

She backs off. Slowly and deliberately, making what’s very nearly a come-hither gesture with her offhand lightsaber. 

And again—Ahsoka is better than this. She is smarter than this. This is such, such glaringly obvious BAIT. She’s being drawn deeper into the factory; Barriss is absolutely herding her, and she falls for it, because she’s not doing great right now.

(And of course Barriss is herding her. Thus far, there’s no actual evidence that Ventress was here except for Ahsoka’s word. For this deception to work there have to be witnesses. She has to attract attention.)

So she does a bunch of flippy bullshit (#Mirialans) to knock those barrels off, slowing Ahsoka down and tiring her out some more.

And when Ahsoka’s done playing Donkey Kong, she COMPLETELY crits on her spot check and does the exact thing that will get Anakin brutally dismembered in about a year. She flips onto the upper level, right past Barriss, who’s just sort of politely waiting for her to land and get her feet under her.

It...is genuinely heartbreaking, honestly, how out of it Ahsoka is during this fight.

And this is actually the second turn, because while it’s impossible to get a high-quality screenshot, this is the first moment where Barriss begins to show that she’s...getting a little too into this. Ahsoka flips onto the platform, and for several seconds she’s slashing wildly around herself while Barriss dodges...completely unarmed.

There’s a few more halfhearted exchanges of blows, culminating in Ahsoka’s only near-hit in this episode. And it comes CLOSE, too; she’s still Ahsoka Tano, after all. Barriss dodges this blow by inches, and Ahsoka impales her saber to the HILT in that support column.

At which point Barriss dodges around the other side of the column and, again, just...waits, for Ahsoka to come at her again.

(We honestly have no idea how so much of the fandom misses how INCREDIBLY staged this whole thing was, because it’s not subtle. The animators are brilliant. It’s fast-paced enough that it’s believable that AHSOKA would believe it, but when you actually watch what’s happening...)

Barriss does ANOTHER FUCKING backflip and they exchange a few more strikes, at which point Barriss pulls what’s actually the bitchiest move she pulls in this whole fight. But it’s also...one of the most interesting and lowkey AWFUL things. Because right now, she is still trying to be Ventress.

She slashes the gas canister open to set up the upcoming explosion, but she also times it so that Ahsoka gets blasted in the face with hot compressed gas that staggers her and briefly impairs Ahsoka’s vision. And that is...a move that we have seen Asajj Ventress use, onscreen, before.

Against Luminara.

The only possible way Barriss could know about this little compressed-steam trick of Ventress’ is through her master. 

Barriss was not there for this fight. Barriss did not see this happen. But Luminara has, out loud, credited Ahsoka for saving her life in this fight—and rightly so, because Ventress came within inches of killing her multiple times during that fight and this was one of them. And Barriss would have to know that. And she just used it against Ahsoka.

In a fight, Luminara is a graceful Lady of War. Barriss Offee, on the other hand, is a stone-cold fucking bitch.

By the time of this arc Barriss is convinced that all of the Jedi have fallen, that they’re all in service to the dark side and just don’t see it, and in a lot of ways she’s right. But the fact is that Barriss Offee herself has fallen to the dark side personally in a way that most individual Jedi have not, and what happens next shows it.

Barrels Offee over here uses the Force to shove a bunch of explosives over the red-hot wounds left by her lightsabers and gets the pyrotechnics she was looking for.

And this is the final turn. Earlier, we noticed Barriss getting a little too into this fight, toying with Ahsoka, taunting her with that unarmed dodging; but she was still focused on her objective, still laying a stage for the most part.

And this is it. This is the objective.

By creating that explosion, she caught the attention of local authorities. There will be witnesses any moment now who will see her, wearing Ventress’ mask and holding Ventress’ lightsabers, standing in a munitions factory that Letta Turmond can be tied to. Ahsoka will testify that she went to investigate and Ventress came from behind to kill her, and suddenly everything will make sense.

Ahsoka...is out of the fight. She’s barely stirring, she’s not getting up. She doesn’t even have the strength to lift that sheet of metal; the only reason she’s able to BARELY get onto her hands and knees is that Barriss uses the Force to lift it off her.

Barriss got what she wanted.

And then she keeps going.

This is Barriss in the FULL grip of the Darkside Tango over here. She’s angry and scared and angry and something about that explosion was cathartic, and this is the point where the duel takes a sharp turn. Something...has changed, about Barriss’ demeanor, here.

She doesn’t appear to be thinking anymore.

This is the point at which this fight is...honestly, just hard to watch. It’s a beatdown. Barriss is now hurting Ahsoka on purpose, and for no other reason than to hurt her. She puts her ALL behind flinging a ragdolling, half-conscious Ahsoka into the wall so hard it shakes some of the steel loose. It’s brutal, and Barriss’ body language is cold and confident the whole time.

She is completely lost in the sauce on the Dark Side at this point.

The absolute worst thing from here on in is the way Ahsoka just…Keeps. Getting. Up.

She can barely stand at this point. She’s got her saber up trying to hold a guard position and she physically can’t. This is legitimately the worst Ahsoka’s ever gotten beaten in a fight in her life, and she knows it. She’s staggering. Her eyes aren’t even fully in focus.

Barriss doesn’t bother with actually fighting, because she doesn’t need to. She hits Ahsoka with a casual Force push to knock her back off her feet, and Ahsoka just cringes in anticipation of it because she knows she can’t defend herself properly.

And then there goes her lightsaber, tumbling over the edge, and she never holds it again until the Siege of Mandalore. That Weapon Is Her Life, and we never see it in its current form again.

And Ahsoka GETS UP AGAIN.

Ladies and gentlemen, our hero.

She is DOWN. She’s dead on her feet, she can’t even walk; she just sort of stumbles across the floor with her own momentum. But she is still SOMEHOW trying to square off with “Ventress.”

And this, right here? This is how we know exactly what Barriss’ mindset is right now, because Ahsoka never gives up. She just doesn’t. She’s the biggest cockroach in a universe containing Darth “Just A Flesh Wound” Maul. Ahsoka doesn’t just lie down and accept her fate. She doesn’t just let people win.

And Barriss...has.

There’s a viciousness in the way she ends this fight. Like, it’s Barriss—all of her fights are a little bit vicious. She is a BITCH when the chips are down. But this is...vindictive. From the moment Ahsoka trembles to her hands and knees after that explosion, the overwhelming cold cruelty Barriss shows from that moment until she spin-kicks Ahsoka down like two and a half stories of broken slats onto solid concrete is raw, bitter:

Will you just STAY DOWN for once in your FUCKING life?!

And we want to take a moment to give Ahsoka the dignity of acknowledging that she still doesn’t.

And then the GAR shows up, and Barriss really shows her true colors. Because the moment she hears Republic forces arriving...

Barriss runs.

We worry sometimes that because Barriss is our favorite character, people will think that means we think she’s justified in her actual actions in this arc, or that her worst actions are somehow not her fault. But let us be very clear: Barriss Offee fucked up royal and is entirely responsible for that. 

The fact that it’s very clear she didn’t come into this fight with intent to kill, the fact that her actions are calculated to clear Ahsoka’s name, is the FURTHEST thing from absolution. Even as she tries to find a solution throughout this episode, it all stems from her original decision to frame Ahsoka for Letta’s murder rather than let Letta spill the beans. There’s a very, very simple solution to this mess, a simple way to clear Ahsoka’s name and make amends for the attack that Barriss regretted almost the moment it happened. But she consistently refuses to even consider it as an option.

Barriss Offee does not want to face the consequences of her actions.

She came into this to fix things, but when push comes to shove—she wants to save her own life. She wants to be a radical dissenter and still get to be the Jedi Padawan poster girl, and the security that comes with it. She doesn’t stick around to make sure she’s seen by witnesses because as evidenced by that brutal beatdown, she’s...stopped caring, that much. She doesn’t value Ahsoka’s life enough to risk her own anymore.

So when this fails, when the clones don’t see her and there’s no evidence to back up Ahsoka’s story that Ventress was the one behind it, when three words from Barriss would save her from a death she doesn’t deserve, Barriss says absolutely nothing until she’s compelled at lightsaber-point.

At the end of the day, this whole elaborate deception was only ever about one thing, and it wasn’t Ahsoka. It was the fact that Barriss Offee doesn’t want to get caught.

[anubislover]

A Heart to Be Used as Needed (a dark Corazon!LawxBaby 5 fic)

“Joker killed another one, huh?”

Sniffling and tearfully nodding her head, Baby 5 skulked into Trafalgar Law’s lab, the young Corazon’s afternoon coffee carefully balanced on a silver tray. “The bastard didn’t even give me enough time to set a wedding date.” The Buki Buki no Mi user was a mess; mascara blended with tears down her cheeks, her eyes were red and puffy, jet black hair tangled, and there were thin rips throughout her maid uniform. She’d clearly just come from another failed attempt at killing Doflamingo, her rage at once more being denied her dream of marital bliss no match for the shichibukai and his Ito Ito no Mi powers.

Law scoffed as he continued to dissect the man on his table. His victim was barely conscious, chest cavity wide open, any resistance he might make suppressed by restraints, a cocktail of opioids, and the fact that his limbs were in a bin on the other side of the operatory. Doflamingo had caught the guy snooping around the castle, so he’d been generously donated to the lab for the Surgeon of Death’s amusement. He’d started off using his powers, but after a while decided to practice more traditional surgery—minus the anesthesia, of course. The result was a rather bloody operating table, organs lined up in little trays encased in their own Rooms to keep his subject alive as long as possible.

Holding the man’s liver up to the light, Law tsked at the cirrhosis that had formed. “You know, they say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.”

Grimacing at her superior’s handywork, the maid replied haughtily, “I’m pretty sure it’s also finding pleasure in playing around with a man’s organs while he watches.”

“No, that’s sadism. Completely different.” Turning around, he pulled off the bloody latex gloves and surgical mask, switching them with the coffee mug, warm viscera dripping onto the polished silver. Despite being red with tears, Baby 5’s eyes rolled heavenwards in annoyance; with his abilities, he could have easily thrown those in the trash, but he always left it to her to clean up instead. Frowning at the red stains on his dress shirt and white lab coat, she knew she’d also be spending a good hour on his laundry. Oh, well. At least it made her feel useful.

Taking a sip of the bitter beverage as he leaned against the operating table, Law quickly scanned her for injuries. Apart from a few bruises and some thin cuts, she seemed relatively unharmed, but it was still worse than Joker’s usual retaliation. Either he’d been in a bad mood, or Baby 5 had really gone all out this time. “Need me to bandage those up?” the surgeon asked, indicating the long, thin slash at her waist.

She waved of his concern as she dumped the contaminated gloves into the trash. “Oh, don’t trouble yourself; I’ll take care of them later.”

It was an expected response; heaven forbid the maid allow anyone to do something for her. Half the time he had to drug her just to fix her up after a mission, as she’d insist on not being a burden even while bleeding out. So, knowing it was a lost cause, he pointed to the sink. “Then at least wash your face; I don’t need you dripping snot and makeup all over my nice, clean lab.” It wasn’t clean, and Baby 5 would inevitably be the one to mop up the blood later, but she was smart enough not to comment.

As she dutifully bent over the sink, scrubbing away tears and reapplying her lipstick, Law diverted his gaze from her injuries to instead appreciate the way her short dress and high heels made her legs look impossibly long. He couldn’t help it; as a doctor, he enjoyed studying anatomy, and as an admitted hedonist, he loved a sexy pair of legs on anyone. The way she leaned over, arching her back and presenting her pert ass, filled his head with impure thoughts of burying his stiff cock inside her, fucking her hard and slow while she made helpless little sounds of pleasure.

Joker really was a sadist, parading a beautiful, biddable woman around in such a tempting outfit, then basically forbidding anyone from touching her. It was easier on everyone else, as most saw her as a sister or niece if they regarded her at all, but as Law’d never bought into the family crap, he lacked that barrier. Instead, his main reason for not going after the sexy little maid boiled down to the knowledge that if he did, she’d cling to him for life, and Doflamingo would be pissed.

Even the best fuck in the world wasn’t worth upending his ultimate plans.

Downing half the mug of coffee in one go to quell his urges, he said, “Not that I approve of any of the worthless peons you’re stupid enough to fall for, but if you want to get married so badly, quit telling Joker and just elope. Why ask permission when you know you’ll never get it?” Despite his harsh words, he was vaguely impressed—foolish as it was, he’d give her props for persistence. Her intense desire to get married was almost comparable to his drive to bring the Heavenly Demon’s world crashing down around him before finally crushing his heart in his bare hands.

The fact was, despite being Corazon, Law had spent the past decade plotting to destroy Joker and his sick criminal empire. It was hardly for altruistic reasons; he’d set the whole world on fire so long as Doflamingo burned with it. All that mattered was avenging Cora-san, and there was no line he wouldn’t cross. A man in his position couldn’t afford to have scruples; his job generally revolved around torture, unethical experimentation, helping enforce Joker’s rule, keeping his twisted subordinates alive and in line, and more. How could he ever hope to take down the former Celestial Dragon if he wasn’t willing to do the same for his plans?

Besides his lack of limits, Law’s greatest strength was his patience. Much as he wanted to simply rip out his still-beating heart, Doflamingo was too strong to fight directly. At least, too strong for the Surgeon of Death. At first, Law’d planned on simply earning his trust and killing him on the operating table under the guise of performing the Perennial Youth Surgery, but after seeing how monstrously powerful and resilient he was, the young doctor had been forced to figure out a new plan. Then, two years ago, he’d had an epiphany; to take out a Warlord, you needed an Emperor, and he was in the perfect position to sabotage Joker and Kaido’s partnership. He would break one of the gears that kept the New World running, then sit back and relish the beautiful storm he’d ushered in.

It wouldn’t be easy, and at the moment, his greatest challenge was gathering the right allies to help him enact his brilliant scheme. Violet used her powers and sexual relationship with Joker to keep him informed of their boss’ plans and divert any suspicions of betrayal. Law had amassed a small but devoted crew eager to follow him into Hell. Last year, he’d secretly saved the Straw Hat boy at Marineford, healing and handing him over to Silvers Rayleigh to train with the intention of calling in the life debt once he and his crew were strong enough for the New World. The young upstart’s brand of chaos would be useful for destroying Joker’s SMILE factory and invoking Kaido’s wrath.

Slowly Trafalgar D. Water Law moved the pieces into place, playing a quiet game of chess with the unwitting shichibukai while acting as his sadistic but loyal Corazon.

Perhaps it was that devotion to subtlety and meticulous planning that made him so annoyed at Baby 5’s foolishness. “Seriously, you do this every time; flounce into his office crowing about how you’re getting married, and the next day the guy’s entire town has been razed to the ground.”

“But I want the Young Master’s approval!” she declared. She simply could not understand why everyone was so against her getting married. Ever since she was a child, she’d longed to belong somewhere, to be useful and needed by someone. To be a man’s wife meant that there was someone who truly valued her, who saw how useful she was and was happy to let her tend to his every need. To be useful was to be needed, to be needed was to be loved, and a loved person would never be abandoned in the mountains, determined a burden, or forgotten.

Once more presentable, her cheeks flushed as she basked in a romantic fantasy, imagining her hypothetical wedding day. “I know he’s just being protective and doing what he feels is best, but he’s never even met my boyfriends! Once he sees how truly in love we are, he’ll walk me down the aisle and give me away to my beloved—”

“That’s just it—he doesn’t want to give you away,” the Dark Doctor interrupted sourly, running a tattooed hand through his messy hair in irritation. Really, how was he the only one who saw through their boss’ illusion of “family” for the brainwashed cult that it was? Was it because he’d witnessed first-hand what he’d done to his own brother? The volatile maid was one of the few he cut any slack; he’d spent the past twelve years watching Doflamingo cultivate her psychological need to be needed into something fanatical and horribly unhealthy, whereas the rest were just plain cruel, stupid, or greedy. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t gleefully tear into her I delusion like a pinned-down frog, though. “You’re most useful when you’re solely devoted to him. If you marry outside the Family, your loyalties will be divided.”

“No, they won’t,” she argued, clasping her hands over her heart, eyes sparkling dramatically under the cold, florescent lights. “I’ll always be loyal to the Family!”

“But what if your husband wants you to choose between us and him?” Law pressed, setting down his mug. Normally, he didn’t bother trying to reason with her, but he was feeling particularly sadistic at the moment. Such utter devotion to that monster disgusted him, and something urged him to pick at the fresh scab over the maid’s damaged psyche and watch it bleed as she was forced to face painful reality. “Your taste in men is generally atrocious, so who’s to say you wouldn’t end up falling for the enemy? Let’s say your husband needs you to shoot Joker, but Doflamingo needs you to kill your husband. Who would you obey?”

“I—I would…” she trailed off, eyes dropping to the floor and hands wringing her apron as her mind struggled. Cheeks flushed red with strain, white teeth bit into her plump, cherry red lip, and sweat started to form across her brow. The butt of her cigarette fell to the floor, slowly burning out on the white linoleum. Law didn’t need to check her pulse to know her heart was racing, and her bountiful chest heaved as panicked adrenaline raced through her veins. It was like a computer attempting to process a paradox, slowly frying its own circuits trying to figure out the unsolvable answer.

A wide, cold smirk stretched his lips, gold eyes greedily taking in her mental anguish. Really, it was quite an attractive look on her. Control freak that he was, he got a special, sick thrill from the knowledge that he could play with her emotions so easily, his words as precise and sharp as his scalpel. “Exactly. That’s why he’ll always kill your pitiful fiancés. He doesn’t trust you to make good decisions on your own, so he guards you like a dragon would a princess, incinerating any would-be knights in shining armor trying to rescue you.”

“But I don’t need to be rescued,” she insisted weakly.

“Well, that’s good, because none of those idiots cared about you enough to want to rescue you. They wanted to take advantage of your weakness, just like everyone else.”

“You’re wrong; they loved me!”

“Then tell me all about your latest ‘romantic’ proposal,” he said sarcastically, slowly circling her like a leopard sizing up a wounded doe, deciding what part of her soft, defenseless flesh he should sink his teeth into first. “Did he get down on one knee and declare his undying devotion? Whisper sweet nothings as you gazed at the stars? Give you a sparkling diamond ring and a bouquet of red roses?” he rasped in her ear as his hand teasingly stroked along her shoulders.

“He…he gave me a daisy,” she muttered, hopelessly staring at the floor.

“Ooo, a daisy! I’m sure it was the prettiest weed freshly picked from a crack in the sidewalk a woman could ask for.”

Spinning around, she struck him, the deafening slap of her open palm against his cheek echoing throughout the operatory. “Why are you such an asshole?!” she shouted, tears once again welling up in her big, dark eyes.

Even though he’d been expecting it, Law glared at her like a basilisk for her insubordination, smirk returning as she instantly cowered before him. Toying with her was so amusing, her reactions volatile yet comically predictable. Really, it was something he’d grown to enjoy over the years—seeing just how far he could push her before she snapped, only to watch her immediately regret it from nothing more than a cold look.

Relishing the power trip he got from her fear, the Corazon stalked back to the table. His victim’s eyes were becoming a bit clearer and his struggles had renewed, strained noises bubbling up in his throat as the drugs wore off. It seemed his body had processed the opioids more quickly than expected; too bad for the unlucky fool, but that just meant more fun for the Surgeon of Death.

Chuckling, Law glanced over his shoulder at Baby 5. With no one to cling to like she normally would, she’d remained frozen in place, trembling as she fearfully awaited his response. Dismemberment was his go-to punishment for her if her were in a particularly bad mood, though he always put her back together, and by the next morning she’d be back to scolding him for not showing the young master enough respect or stealing her last cigarette.

Lucky for her, this was one of his better days, so instead of having her join the man on the table, Law threw her a bone. “I need you to fetch me that gag on the counter. I don’t trust my patient not to start screaming again, and it would be rude of him to cause a racket when we’re trying to have a conversation.”

The second the word “need” had left his mouth, Baby 5 ceased her cowering, dashing over to the counter and grabbing the leather gag, nearly tripping over herself in her eagerness to be useful.

Despite himself, the Dark Doctor gave the barest hint of a smile. Much as the woman annoyed him with her fanatical devotion to Doflamingo, her desire to help was just so pure it was, at times, endearing. If he were honest, Baby 5 was probably the one he hated the least in the organization; besides being the nicest to look at, her wants and needs were simple, and she could be surprisingly compassionate in little ways. She was one of the few who, despite considering him a traitor, had acknowledged just how much Cora-san had meant to Law. Held his hand while he’d mourned for his savior after he’d been dragged kicking and screaming back to the Family. Been genuinely thrilled that his Amber Lead Disease was cured. Taken up smoking with him as a small tribute to the former Corazon, huddling behind a tree as they retched at their first taste of tobacco.

If nothing else, he always enjoyed watching her attack their boss when he murdered her fiancés. Even when she failed, Law found it to be catharsis-by-proxy, as he spent most of his days plotting how to horribly and painfully murder the shichibukai. A hell of a turn-on, too; who wouldn’t have the occasional sexual fantasy about a hot maid trying to assassinate the man you hated most?

Sparing a nod of thanks, the surgeon shoved the gag into his patient’s mouth before tightening the restraints. He prided himself on his steady hands, and he wouldn’t have his work ruined because the worthless fool couldn’t keep still. “You may call me an asshole, but I’m the only one who cares about you enough to give the cold, hard truth. Everyone else sugar-coats their words so they can keep you compliant and unwilling to think for yourself. So, you’re welcome.”

Hands fisting on her hips, Baby 5 scowled. It was remarkable how she could go from trembling before him to arguing like they were still children. “Oh, so people who are awful to me care, and yet the men you claim give such horrible proposals don’t? You’re so full of shit, Law!”

He shrugged, taking another sip of his now-lukewarm coffee. “Am I? Even when I was officially promoted to Corazon, you still treated me the same as when we were kids—slapping me when I got mouthy and refusing to kiss my ass like all the other sycophants in this shithole. Are you saying you don’t care about me?”

Her beautiful face twisted in genuine confusion. “I…well, of course I do, but…”

“I let you get away with so much more than anyone else. You hit me, insult me, order me about, and the most I’ve ever done is cut off your limbs for a few hours, and I always fix you back up good as new. Because, even though you’re a foolish, emotional pain in the ass, our little spats are the only thing that feel genuine some days. To you, I’m just Law, and I actually appreciate that.” It surprised him how honest he was being, but he supposed it was as he said; he cared enough not to bullshit her, at least compared to the others.

“You do?”

“Yeah. So that’s why I’m telling you to stop accepting every ‘proposal’ a guy throws your way. You’re famous for your eagerness to please, and men are always looking to take advantage of that. And even if you did manage to find the one decent soul in this world who genuinely loved you, Joker will never let you go. He’ll kill anyone who might take you from the Family.”

Something sparked in her eyes at his words, as if he’d given her the greatest epiphany of her life. “Maybe…maybe I could marry someone in the Family, then! Trebol nearly offered just this afternoon!”

Law gagged on his coffee at the very thought. A man like him needed a strong stomach, but perhaps he did have some limits, after all; not even he would inflict marriage to the snot-dripping freak on someone. “Please tell me you had to good sense not to accept.” He facepalmed at her embarrassed blush. How could anyone’s standards be so low? Was marriage really such an enticing concept that she’d bed that? And the risk of death aside, shouldn’t a woman as sexy and submissive as her attract better suitors?

A sudden, cruel idea popped into his head. What if he married Baby 5? A dangerous assassin and obedient maid could certainly be useful in his scheme. Doflamingo wouldn’t dare kill him for proposing; not if he wanted that Perennial Youth Surgery. He wouldn’t even have a good excuse to refuse the match, considering how it would both keep Baby in the Family and—so he’d believe—further secure his Corazon’s loyalty. After all, what better reward could Law ask for after years of faithful service than a gorgeous trophy wife?

And on the day he finally enacted his revenge against the Heavenly Demon, he’d either have a powerful, completely devoted ally in Baby 5, or she’d be too crippled by indecision to pick between them, keeping her from interfering. Either way, Joker would have lost a piece on the chessboard and not even know until it was too late.

A little voice that sounded disturbingly like Cora-san’s whispered in his ear that using Baby 5 like that made him no better than the Doflamingo, but Law brushed it away. If anything, he was being kind to the silly maid; hadn’t Rosinante wanted to keep him, Baby 5, and Buffalo out of Joker’s clutches? The Marine’s own methods of doing so hadn’t been gentle or entirely ethical, either—throwing kids out of a window wasn’t exactly a safe way to deter them from a life of piracy. Besides, even with his not-so-noble intentions towards her, Law was still a far better suitor than anyone she’d pick on her own. In fact, he was making her dream of becoming a wife a reality, and wasn’t that generous of him?

Putting his mug down, the surgeon reached out to gently rest his fingertips under her chin. Startled at the unexpected contact, Baby 5 nearly stumbled back, but he stepped closer, wrapping his arm securely around her waist to steady her. “It astounds me that a woman as beautiful as you would even consider settling for a disgusting thing such as Trebol,” he said lowly, looking deeply into her obsidian eyes. It would be easy to simply say he needed her or demand she marry him, but he wanted to be sure her loyalty fully shifted to him, otherwise, she could become a liability.

Besides, seduction was just so much more fun; since he’d hit adulthood, Law’d indulged in all manner of sexual vices with hundreds of partners, men and women alike. After all, he hadn’t expected to live past thirteen, and even with his Amber Lead Disease gone, he was on a ticking clock. Death loomed on his horizon, whether it he be killed in battle, forced to fulfill his purpose and conducting the Perennial Youth Surgery, or Joker uncovering his betrayal. So, in between plotting and research, why not make the most out of the time he had? And for all her annoying quirks, Baby 5 was a gorgeous, obedient woman, and he’d be lying if he didn’t like it when she showed her feisty side. She’d starred in many a wet dream over the years, and now he could finally justify making them a reality.

Hot, coffee-scented breath made the wispy strands of hair that framed her face flutter delicately. “You’d see you’ve got far better options if you simply opened your eyes.”

For her part, Baby 5 was utterly shocked. First, Law admitting that he cared about her, and now he was implying there was someone out there who might be interested in proposing? Was he serious, or just making fun of her like Trebol?

Slowly, the tattooed fingers at her chin journeyed south, brushing lightly down her pale throat, over her trembling heart, between her voluptuous breasts, across her trim waist, until they reached the pocket of her apron. Her eyes were fixated on his hand as he fished out a cigarette and her lighter, her breath quickening as he raised the former to her mouth. Instinctively, she opened up to take it, but with a playful smirk, he teasingly ran the filter over her bright red lips, amused at the way the cherry gloss stained the white paper.

Finally, he pushed the cigarette between her lips, murmuring, “Have you ever been kissed before, Baby-ya?”

The way her cheeks went pink was so uncharacteristically demure he had to chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, sending strange but thrilling tingles between her legs. “N-no,” she stammered bashfully.

With a soft click, Law flicked the sparkwheel with his thumb, carefully bringing the dancing flame to light the tip of the cigarette. He could tell he was making her nervous by the way she hurriedly took several steadying puffs, embers flaring with every inhalation.

“Such a shame. I imagine there are women who would kill for lips like yours. And the way you practically suck on that cigarette,” he growled, gold eyes fixating on her mouth, “it gives a man ideas.”

“What kind of ideas?” she asked, breathless and full of wide-eyed, eager curiosity.

Unconsciously, his arm tightened around her waist at her innocence, forcing her to arch against him, soft curves molding against hard muscle. God, she didn’t even know how tempting that question made her. If he were a man with less control, she’d be on her knees learning first-hand what a mouth like hers was made for.

Plucking the cigarette from her unresisting lips, Law took a long drag before blowing the smoke out his nose as he looked down at her with hooded eyes. Licking his lips, he could taste the lingering hints of cherry gloss, sharp and sweet and delicious. “The kind a sweet little thing like you wouldn’t ever dream of.”

“Are they,” she swallowed harshly, pupils dilating as she instinctively gripped his lab coat, “the kind husbands and wives have?”

“Husbands and wives, lovers, bedmates, bored, horny teenagers; basically, anyone who likes to fuck,” he replied before taking another drag. As he leaned back his head to release the stream of smoke into the air, he smirked devilishly at her rapt expression. Oh, he was going to ruin her.

Gently tucking a strand of raven hair behind her ear, he murmured, “Let me talk to Joker. Maybe I can pick his brain, figure out if there’s anyone he would consider a worthy husband for you.”

He forced himself not to laugh at the shadow of disappointment that crossed her face. Dropping her gaze, she pushed against his chest, trying to break away. “Ah…thank you, Law, but you don’t have to. I’d hate to be a burden, and you’re so busy—”

“Nonsense. A loyal, caring woman like you deserves a husband who appreciates everything you have to offer.” Deftly, he maneuvered them so her backside was pressed against the operating table, caging her in and thwarting her escape. Their legs entangled, Baby 5 had no choice but to meet his piercing gaze as he absently flicked the cigarette’s ashes onto a small puddle of blood by her hand. “I may not always agree with him, but he was right to kill the worthless bastards you were so infatuated with. Hell, my only complaint is that he always got to them before I did.”

“What?”

“I mean, if killing every man on the planet is what it takes for you to notice me…”

Baby 5 blinked blankly, mind desperately trying to process what he’d just let slip. “Law, are you…?”

“Am I what, Baby-ya?” he teased, leaning forward as he took another drag, his hot breath mingling with the sweet smoke as it fanned over her lovely face.

“Are you…proposing?”

“What if I were? Would you blindly accept like you did Trebol’s?” Putting the cigarette down, he ran the very tips of his fingers over her exposed collarbone before resting his palm over her thundering heart. He was positive if he removed it, it would jump right out of his hand. “Are you so desperate that you’d accept the proposal of a man who’s cut you apart for fun?” Roughly, his other hand buried itself in her thick, jet black hair, yanking her head back and pulling her even closer until their lips lingered barely an inch apart. “So desperate you’d give yourself over to a man covered in blood, pressed against an operating table occupied by a half-dissected idiot?”

“Yes,” she replied with bated breath, hopeful eyes sparkling.

God, she was weak. Law could pin her down and fuck her on that table, do any number of depraved things to that luscious, untouched body and she wouldn’t even complain so long as he said he needed her. The thought was tempting, but he couldn’t risk Joker refusing their union because he couldn’t control his libido. The Heavenly Demon had to feel like the surgeon genuinely desired his approval—that he wasn’t trying to go behind his back and destroy his wretched “Family.”

“Then no, I’m not.” Despair crumpled her face, tears once more welling up at how easily he’d played with her emotions. Before they could fully fall, Law released her hair to cup her chin. “Mainly because my pride would never let me give such a half-assed proposal. When I ask you to marry me, I’ll have Doflamingo’s blessing, a ring, and it’ll be somewhere far more romantic than my laboratory.”

Jaw dropping, she stared at him in disbelief. “Y-you mean that?”

“Absolutely. I can’t stand the sight of your tears; if marriage is what it takes to make you happy, I’ll do everything I can to help.”

“Thank you, Law!” she cried, flinging her arms around his neck. “You really do care about me!”

He had to chuckle as he returned her embrace; he knew she’d readily agree, but her pure joy at just the prospect of marrying him stroked his inflated ego.

“I promise I’ll be the best wife you could ask for! I’ll clean your surgical equipment twice a day, launder your lab coats by hand, give you back rubs, make onigiri for dinner every night—whatever you need!”

A tiny smile pulled at his lips. All such sweet, innocent promises from a woman who was far more sheltered than one would ever imagine from an assassin for a family of criminals. Though, he’d definitely take her up on that last one.

“Just promise me you’ll be a loyal, dutiful wife, Baby-ya, and I’ll give you a marriage unlike anything you’ve ever imagined,” he whispered intimately, cradling her cheek. His hand was so big he could fit the whole side of her face in his palm. She turned her face to nuzzle it blissfully, causing his calloused thumb to brush over her plump bottom lip.

Gold eyes darkened at the sight of her red lips against the tattooed appendage. Unconsciously, he stroked it against the seam of her mouth, gently coaxing her to open up and let it slip into her soft, hot mouth. He gave a faint moan at the sensation of her silken lips wrapping around him, molten tongue curiously stroking the rough pad. Experimentally, he gave it a few shallow thrusts, and he nearly lost his damn mind when she responded with an instinctive suck.

“Good girl,” he whispered without thinking, and the way her pupils dilated with desire at his words forced him to pull away, lest he jump the gun and the eager maid before him.

“Is…is that the kind of idea my mouth gives you?” she asked, panting faintly, her pale cheeks flushed as she nibbled on her bottom lip.

“That’s one of the tamer ideas,” he rasped, retrieving the forgotten cigarette. It had almost burnt down to the filter, but there was just enough left for a few steadying puffs. “Once we’re married, you’ll get to experience every dirty thought I’ve ever had about you. Would you like that?” he asked, unable to help himself.

Her harsh swallow was audible in the taut silence of the lab. “Yes.”

The pleasant throb between his legs urged him to start the wedding night early, but besides the logical part of his brain telling him he needed to set things in motion with Doflamingo, it was coaxing him to wait; this wasn’t the time or place to indulge in such a delicious morsel. Baby 5 needed to be savored, like a gourmet meal he’d spent hours preparing, not swallowed down in one bite. Once she was officially his, he’d have plenty of time to mold her into his perfect concubine, subordinate, secret weapon, and tool.

Desire under control, he took her hand, pressing a chaste, gentlemanly kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll meet with Joker tonight; I’m sure I can convince him we’re a match made in heaven. But I need you to not to tell anyone about us until I formally propose, alright? I want everything to be perfect, and we can’t risk Joker finding out too early and thinking we didn’t value his approval.”

Black eyes sparkled as his careful choice of words. “I promise, darling!”

“Such a good girl,” he chuckled, admiring the way her cheeks instantly flushed at his praise. How…interesting.

As Baby 5 giddily skipped out the door, the click of her heels silenced by the door slamming shut behind her, Law turned to the man bound to his table staring at him with wide-eyed shock. He’d nearly forgotten they’d had an audience, and he’d have to make sure he was properly disposed of before meeting with Joker; he couldn’t let anyone spoil his plans before he even got to the good part, after all.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he said as he pressed the smoldering embers of the dying cigarette against his patient’s cheek, smirking as the accusing eyes watered in pain. A fresh pair of surgical gloves stretched over his long fingers, and as he selected his scalpel, he added, “Trust me—I’m still a better option than that fucking creep Trebol.”

[luxicorde]

Prompt 17: Obeisance

(2.7k words and posted at fuckin quarter till 1 in the morning.

I got an Idea and I hyperfixated.)

“Calum Odette, your presence has been requested by the Emperor of Ronka. You will need to come with us.”

The hall went silent as Calum and the other hunters turned, finding Ronkan soldiers sat in their doorway. It was no secret that Ronka had its eyes on the desert, and soldiers were becoming more and more common as a result.

But soldiers making demands, especially of the hunters and a blackblood to boot, was crossing an unspoken line.

Gera stood from his spot at the table, turning to them and keeping a hand loosely perched on the hilt of one of his blades. “Gentlemen,” he said, a sweet smile on his face but venom in his voice. “You’re awfully far from the jungle. Did you get lost, maybe hit your head on the way here?”

That got a few snorts and chuckles from the other hunters. One of the guards reached for the sword at his hip before the other threw an arm out in front of him, the thump to his armor getting him to back off. “This does not concern you, Drahn. We know Master Odette to be half-elfan, and if necessary we will search this entire establishment.”

“My, they’re mouthy little shits, aren’t they?” Several of the hunters had lost interest at this point, returning to their drinks and meals. To them, it wouldn’t matter if the Emperor himself barged in. Half of them wouldn’t give an amaro’s arse about it, and the other half were too stubbornly loyal to give Calum up.

“You dare insult soldiers chosen by-”

“Oh yes, I do dare. You don’t have any power here, lackeys. Leave.” It didn’t take long for Gera to grow bored of them. The game had gone from fun to annoying awfully fast with the hot-headed soldier and his high-and-mighty attitude.

The calmer soldier took a step forward, and most of the hunters rose from their seats, ready to defend their own. If the soldiers had stayed out of the hall, the hunters would have let them be. But trespassing was something none of them would tolerate.

“Put your weapons away. As my companion was saying, we have been chosen by the Emperor himself to bring Master Odette back-”

“‘Master’ Odette? I don’t know, Gera, it has a ring to it.” Calum had remained seated, not wanting to bother with the soldiers. His back was turned to them, but they seemed to hear him anyway. 

He heard the footsteps come closer, and felt Gera move from his side to put himself in between him and the soldiers. 

“Lay a finger on us, and the Emperor will have this place razed to the ground!”

“I’d like to see him try. It would be amusing to watch the little metal-clad bugs dash themselves against our walls.”

Calum heard the fight behind him, not turning to watch knowing it would be quick. He took a sip of his drink as he heard Gera unsheathe his blades, the sound of a body hitting the floor, and a few more clangs before the second body hit the ground. The other hunters in the hall let out a cheer as Gera put his swords away again, bending over to haul the two soldiers outside. They were still alive, though bleeding quite a bit. Still, Calum didn’t doubt they’d be picked up and healed by some kind passerby.

Eventually, at least.

It had been a few weeks since the soldiers first came. Calum had forgotten about them entirely, making himself busy with hunts and training. It wasn’t until Madi, poor, sweet little Madi had burst through the door, panting like she had run a marathon just to get there.

The Dwarf took her breath before standing back up straight. “Which... one of you idiots... pissed off the Ronkans?!”

Slowly the hunters turned to face Calum and Gera, who had been talking about their latest battle. The two men looked a bit sheepish, not expecting there to be any sort of threat after defending themselves.

“Oh-! You foolish, idiot brutes! We have a whole host of soldiers waiting at the gates because of your pig-headedness!” She rushed over, pulling Calum from his seat and nearly yanking his arm off with her strength. “Come on, come on! They’re here looking for you, you blundering oaf! We need to get you out!”

The other hunters in the hall groaned and sighed, gathering their weapons as they muttered about Calum dragging them into another mess. Gera stayed by his side until Madi shooed him away. “Go!” she said, taking a moment to let go of Calum’s hand to shoo him out the door. “If it comes to fighting they’ll need you more than he does!”

Gera stole a glance at Calum before he allowed himself to be pushed out the door, only leaving when Calum gave him a nod.

Madi led him out of the back of the hall, dragging him along like her little legs depended on it. She didn’t stop moving until she nearly ran into someone after turning a corner. 

“It looks like we were right to sneak in.” Two soldiers stood before them, and Madi backed up the moment she realized what was happening. Calum placed himself in front of her, motioning for her to run.

“Grab the man, and we’ll get a nice fancy reward. Let the girl run.” With that, Madi bolted, and the soldiers moved forward. In a flash, Calum had his blade out, running his fingertips across the edge to stoke the fire to life. The first soldier was hardly a challenge, simply running forward and expecting Calum to move out of the way. The weak, almost pitiful slash barely clanged against his greatsword as he took the blow, easily countering with his own and ripping open the soldier’s back. 

He never liked killing people. It was always a terrible, terrible thing, but he wasn’t about to let himself be kidnapped to avoid it.

The second soldier was more of a challenge, using the thin alleyway to his advantage. His spear was harder to block, and harder still to dodge with how little room Calum had. He positioned his body to the side to dodge, using the movement to swing his blade down from above, but rather than meeting flesh, it clanged off the stone pavement, the soldier jumping back before advancing again to take advantage of Calum’s vulnerable form.

He brought the blade up just in time to deflect, the spearhead skidding off the steel and showering him in sparks as it hit the side of the building next to him. Calum spun to deflect the next thrust and give himself the momentum for a slash from the bottom, creating his own flurry of sparks as he brought the blade up. He caught the soldier’s hand, forcing him to drop the spear and give Calum an opening. He rushed forward, expecting to run the soldier through.

Then he felt a prick at the side of his neck.

And then another.

The world quickly started to spin, and he lost his balance as the third dart pierced his skin. He braced himself against the wall of a building, trying to shake the fog from his mind as he started to drift off.

“You couldn’t have done that sooner?” Calum heard as the guard moved next to him, first retrieving his spear before holding Calum back by the arms. He gave a weak attempt to struggle free, but it was becoming harder and harder to keep his eyes open, let alone fight his way out of this.

The soft ‘thump’ of someone landing near him sounded like it was muffled through a thick layer of cotton. 

“Had to be sure he was the one. Has the eyes alright. Check his hand.”

Calum didn’t know what they meant. Didn’t have the time to figure it out as the world around him faded to black.

Calum woke to the soft rocking of a ship. He could feel more than see there was someone next to him, but it all soon faded away again as something was poured down his throat.

He woke several more times, but the only time he was allowed to stay awake was when he was somewhere else entirely. The smell of salt was gone, and the floor didn’t creak or rock as he got out of bed and landed. He was still shaky on his feet, and he felt like he was hungover, but he was lucid enough to know this wasn’t home. 

The floor was made from stone, a rug only meeting his feet halfway. It didn’t take him long to realize his armor was gone, and so was his sword. Whoever had put him there had decided to play dress-up, his undershirt traded for a clean white tunic and his pants and underclothes matching. There was a massive window, showing the lush green of a forest. He wasn’t so dumb as to not figure out he wasn’t in Amh Araeng anymore. 

The door to the room opened, revealing a servant dressed in a simple grey and gold robe. She smiled sweetly as she saw him, placing the tray she was carrying down on the table nearest to the bed. Calum cursed his traitorous nose for picking up the scent of freshly cooked meat, and he could only guess from the sickly sweet smell coming from the pitcher that it was some sort of tea.

“It is good to see you awake, Master Odette. The emperor has requested that you eat before seeing him.” The woman waved her hand to the tray, bowing slightly as she did so.

“I won’t be eating anything here. And don’t call me ‘Master.’”

“My apologies. But I must insist that you eat, the Emperor-”

“The Emperor can shove it up his ass for all I care. Take me to him, now. I want to know why in the seven hells he kidnapped me.”

The woman briefly had a stunned look across her face, but she quickly replaced it with her smile before bowing again and showing Calum to the hall.

Without his armor and sword, he felt naked, especially when being led in front of the doors to what he guessed was the throne room. The Viis guards there were armed to the teeth, and he’d heard the stories from Gera about how a Viis palace guard could kill a man with a single shot from a malm away.

The guards opened the doors, not sparing him a second glance as they did so. The woman led him inside, and Calum winced at the sheer amount of light pouring in through the windows. Once his eyes adjusted, he would have thought this place beautiful if the circumstances were different. Massive stone arches, wrapped in leaves and moss and all other kinds of foliage made the roof of the massive throne room. Windows stretched up to the green canopy above, letting in the morning sun and the gentle breeze from the forest. Birds flitted about high above, some more muted but others in dazzling reds and blues.

If he weren’t glaring at the man sitting in the golden throne at the end of the hall, he would have been mesmerized.

The Emperor was far from an imposing man. An older Hume, starting to go grey at the temples and dark skin just starting to pull against his face with wrinkles. The deep blue eyes he had were kind, but Calum wasn’t inclined to trust someone who had orchestrated his kidnapping. His robes were a similar shade to his eyes, deep blue and trimmed with white and gold. As Calumn was led closer to him, he stood, arms stretched out as if for a hug.

“Thank you, Amina. You may leave now.” The woman bowed low and turned on her heels, silently making her way out of the throne room and leaving Calum alone with the Emperor. 

Only, that wasn’t quite true.

Hiding in the shadows of the archway was another Viis guard, likely a personal attendant of some sort. Calum wasn’t surprised to see her. It would have been stupid to leave him alone.

“I hope my soldiers did not hurt you, but I was told you put up quite the fight.” The Emperor had a kind smile, matching his eyes. Calum only saw it as a mask, but what it was hiding, he couldn’t say.

“Why have you brought me here? All of Amh Araeng is going to know you kidnapped a hunter, and they won’t let your soldiers prance about after that.”

His smile faltered for a moment as he let out a small sigh, but he quickly composed himself again. “Your right hand, if you would, Calum?”

Calum covered his hand, not liking where this was going. The mark that had been there since he was a child was none of this Emperor’s business, and even if it was, he wasn’t about to show it to a stranger.

“Please, Calum. This does not need to be difficult.”

When Calum still refused, the Emperor snapped his fingers, and the Viis woman was at his side in a heartbeat. Still woozy from whatever they’d done to make him stay asleep, he couldn’t put up much of a fight as the guard peeled back the fingers of his left hand, showing the mark.

“So it’s true.” The Emperor almost sounded… choked up? Calum couldn’t place his tone, yanking his hand back from the Viis.

Just as the emperor had come forward to hug him.

Calum shoved him away, but quickly found an arrow leveled to his head. The red-haired guard would be having none of this, it seemed, but Calum barely flinched as he felt the bite of cold steel against his scalp.

“My son, after all this time...”

Those words settled in his belly like a stone. But once they set in, it was quickly replaced by a burning rage. He felt his blood start to boil as his mind connected the dots.

The Emperor had returned to him, taking his hands in his own. Calum went to yank them away, but the sting at the side of his head only got sharper as he tensed up. 

“Leave us, Almet.”

“B-but sir-”

“Leave us!”

The Viis swallowed her words, shooting Calum a glare before bowing and leaving.

As soon as she was gone, Calum ripped his hands away.

“Your son?” His voice was shaking with rage. He’d never met his parents, his mother died having him and… and…

His father, whoever that was, had never been there. Never even acknowledged he was alive. He’d been found in a box behind a whorehouse, left outside for passerby or animals, whichever found him first.

“Of course! When the reports reached me that a man had eyes like the emperor, I did not-”

“Enough.” It was all he could do to keep himself from strangling this man. He knew what that mark on his hand meant, Gera had told him, but he wouldn’t believe it. Call it a weird birthmark, fate, something, but he refused to believe it meant that he had been left to die and live in squalor while his father ate off of golden plates.

Calum was shaking when the Emperor spoke again. “I know this must be shocking, Calum-”

“Do not call me that.” His voice was firm, if only for a moment as he practically growled out the words through his teeth. “You have no right.”

“As your father, I-”

“You are not my father!” Calum stepped forward, his blood truly burning in his veins. “You did not raise me! I was left to die and cared for only out of sheer dumb luck!” He couldn’t hold back the anger any more, looming over the shorter Emperor as he spoke. “Why did you bring me here, after twenty summers of not caring?! Kidnapping me after twenty summers of living across the world?!”

He took a few shaky breaths, backing up after hearing shifting from the door behind him.

The Emperor had a worried glint in his eye. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t this.

“Is seeing my son not enough of a reason?”

“LAIR!” Calum lunged at him, any sliver of composure lost with those words. He didn’t hear when the guards rushed in, barely felt their blows, blinded by rage as he was. All he could think of doing was getting rid of this man, this worthless filth in front of him. He heard shouting, and the world went black again.

[missstormcaller]

CAN’T FEAR YOUR OWN WORLD Vol. II Part 8 Full Translation

This is the first half of part 10 on the app (chapter 9 continued)

Rukongai

Luppi Antenor's fate as an Arrancar, was once completely sealed at the hands of Grimmjow. Thanks to Inoue Orihime's powers which were summoned at Aizen's insistence, Grimmjow's lost arm had been regenerated. In that same way, he urged Inoue to restore the skin on his back as well as the character for Sexta tattooed there. At this point, the situation had evolved to accommodate two Sextas among the Espada, Luppi and Grimmjow —— However, the end had been marked for that overlap in only a matter of seconds. Feeling confused and irritated, Luppi questioned Grimmjow about the intention behind having his numerical digit restored, he received a clear answer by way of an arm running through his chest as a result. —— "That's the way it goes. See ya, 'former' number 6." Grimmjow's words, and the vast amount of Reiatsu gushing forth from the insides of his chest. That is Luppi's last memory as an Espada.

—— I had a thirst.

After regaining his consciousness through the efforts of Kurotsuchi Mayuri, it was Luppi who had somehow displayed a philosophical outlook, but it was impossible to forget the grudge he held when he was 'still alive.' Those who once looked down on him, those who caused him shame, every last one of them could not be forgiven. Watching for an opportunity, Luppi secretly schemed in his mind to one day carry out his revenge.

—— I had a thirst.

He was supposed to be thinking towards that — However, when he was deployed to actual combat as a member of the Kurotsuchi Corpse Unit, Luppi began to cast doubt into his own heart. Hitsugaya Tōshirō. That was the name of the opponent who once gave Luppi his first taste of defeat during the battle in Karakura Town. Luppi came to learn that name only after he was resurrected.

He still distinctly recalls the deceleration he made the moment he was withdrawn from Hitsugaya's location. —— "Don't forget my face." —— "Because the next time we meet, I'll definitely twist off that tiny little head of yours… and crush it!" This wasn't just a sharp parting remark or an act of bravado, but rather words that were loaded with hatred stemming from sincere feelings. Though he was careless, even Luppi himself acknowledged that his opponent was a formidable individual. Nevertheless, even on the basis of having understood that, he decided it must be done. In order to allow himself to continue to exist as himself, he decided that the captain who had the form of a child, must be shredded to pieces. —— Thirst which can not be cured. The opportunity to meet again came sooner than imagined. Thrown into the battlefield as a game piece under the control of the Quincy, and in opposition to himself who was acting as a member of the Kurotsuchi Corpse Unit alongside Dordoni and the others, Hitsugaya Tōshirō made an appearance before them in the most unexpected way. Becoming a corpse puppet kept alive through the ability held by one among the Quincy, he stood in the path before the Shinigami as a brutal and peerless enemy. Yet for all that — the moment he laid eyes on that scene, Luppi realises that the destructive impulses in his heart had began to subside. —— What the heck is that about? —— How is it, that he's broken already? —— He may be just my plaything. But I am the one who was supposed to break him! The Shinigami who appeared next, was a woman whom he also recalls battling. Matsumoto Rangiku. An opponent he described as having a "killer body" and attempted to skewer with a countless number of needles during their past confrontation in Karakura Town. Although Luppi's preference of physique hasn't changed since then, she had been reduced to a walking corpse all the same, her mind in a state of complete ruin. He had taken her as an opponent under Mayuri's orders, but neither the thrill nor the destructive urge, and not even that ecstatic feeling the moment he crushingly defeats an inferior opponent, could surge its way to the surface like it did in the past.

—— Unquenchable thirst.

—— The Corpse Unit huh?

After the war against the Quincies had come to an end, even though Luppi had heard stories that Hitsugaya and Rangiku had returned to their original states, he was not driven once again by the urge to go and kill them. —— Sure, perhaps that suits the current me. —— Why the hell is it, that I feel as if I haven't truly experienced being alive? Spending his days as a lackey working behind the scenes of the Department of Research and Development, he was tasked with things such as the capture of newborn Hollows possessing peculiar abilities. Although he was no longer confined at times other than work these days, that's purely due to the fact that Kurotsuchi Mayuri's surveillance system had become flawless. Judging from Mayuri's character, Luppi knew it wouldn't be unusual for the man to have even implanted a self-detonating bomb inside him. However, even without it — if for instance he was told to "engage in battle with Hitsugaya Tōshirō" under Mayuri's instructions, it appeared unlikely that he would be thrilled at the prospect.

—— The thirst. —— The thirst is constantly expanding.

Whilst fulfilling the instructions he was assigned with, day after day he would feel an unquenchable thirst. Nevertheless, his thirsting is not consequent upon that. There is nothing that can fill that nothingness as empty as a Hollow's hole. Withered away, is it not that very desire itself which is one of a Hollow's roots? Despite such misgivings crossing his mind, for Luppi it was a trivial matter. In this way, he was merely used a tool for the Shinigami, probably until both his body and mind dries up and evaporates. He even entertained such discouraging thoughts. —— Argh, but I've been thinking, to thirst, to dry up, to feel absolute nothingness and then eventually become one with the sands of Hueco Mundo, I don't want it. What was the point of carrying on with life day after day whilst continuing to thirst in this way? On this day, just as he pondered such thoughts that were negative to the point of being unimaginable to his former self —— The moment he caught sight of Grimmjow's form, all his 'thirst' disappeared. It was fear towards the one who killed him. It was hatred towards the one who looked down on him. It was delight at the discovery of the one who must be 'destroyed'. The emotions which had supposedly ran dry before now, came spewing out with fierce momentum from the deepest parts of his body. It's as if water was overflowing from a part of the body which should have been empty -- from the depths of his 'hole'.

Due to the "Gran Rey Cero" fired by Grimmjow, some of Luppi's tentacles had taken severe damage. Even though blood was also streaming out from Luppi's body itself, he didn't flinch from it in the slightest. Rather, it was as if the fury which was cutting into him had caused his Reiatsu to amplify further, the motion of each and every tentacle increased in speed. Grimmjow who continued to take the barrage of hits, daringly utters more words of provocation even in a situation where he was at a disadvantage with the frequency of attacks. Blood went flying around from the tentacles which rebounded off his vigorous slashing attacks, a spurt of blood clung to Grimmjow's cheek. As soon as Luppi had transformed each of his eight tentacles in their current conditions into either a mountain of needles or a pointed blade, he rotated them at high speed resembling the propeller of a helicopter and then thrust them towards Grimmjow. "Don't be… so slow!" Meanwhile Grimmjow boldly weaved his body through the gaps between the flurry of blows. In this way Grimmjow was able to kick Luppi himself away, he planned to unleash "Gran Rey Cero" a second time in order to pursue him, but then —— " ! " From the tips of all eight tentacles belonging to Luppi who went tumbling down, Ceros are shot in quick succession. As expected, one after the other they did not possess power as formidable as that of a "Gran Rey Cero", but perhaps emulating Grimmjow's technique in which one's own blood is mixed in to boost Reiatsu, the flashes of light which were much stronger compared to an ordinary Cero, charged towards the rival Arrancar with vigour similar to a Bala. (TN -- as a reminder, Bala is 20x faster than Cero.) "I told you, you're too slow!" Grimmjow ceased repelling those continuous strikes, remaining unconcerned as he sustained the injuries too, he then unleashed these words. " —— Grind, Pantera!"

Hueco Mundo "Is Harribel really going too? Are things going to be okay with you away from Hueco Mundo?" "…I'm merely going to gauge Soul Society's true intentions. I'll leave the task of bringing back Grimmjow to you." While responding to Nelliel's words, Harribel opens up a Garganta under the dome of Las Noches. As a result of continued investigation following his disappearance, they were able to confirm that remnants of Grimmjow's Reiatsu were heading towards Soul Society. Despite the need to bring him back before things develop into a large-scale dispute, moving into operation with a great number of people, can in itself be taken as an act of hostility towards Soul Society. Understanding that it was pointless to trigger a conflict to no avail at their current fighting power, Harribel intended to keep the headcount to a bare minimum, in other words, she would proceed towards 'negotiations' with Soul Society unaided. Three individuals known as Apacci, Rose and Sung-Sun who are Harribel's Fracción, refused to back down saying "we will also go", but in the end they were made to stay behind as an essential part of defence in her absence. "Please leave it to us to take of things here. Harribel sama, please don't push yourself too hard either…" The anxiety that swayed in the depths of Sung-sun's words which sounded serene, is likely caused by the fact that Harribel was taken prisoner by Yhwach in the past. Concluding as much, Harribel extended heartfelt apologies for her own shortcomings, at the same time she spoke in order to put Sung-sun and the others at ease. "…I'm sorry. In order to not allow a situation like that to occur again, it is necessary to act now." Facing her Fracción, Harribel revealed a glimpse of the speculations which had piled up inside her. "Because that Shinigami child… if we leave it to chance, sooner or later it may become an 'enemy' the likes of Yhwach."

While Harribel and Nelliel disappeared into the Garganta, a girl who was observing the flow of their Reiatsu from a separate location, muttered her words in a detached manner. "…They're finally on the move." In contrast with the girl - Liltotto Lamperd - who had a serious tone of voice, Giselle Gewelle who was playing around with a zombified Bambietta Basterbine in the background, raised her voice with no air of tension. "Huh? Really?" "Uuh… Candi… Meni… where?" As she listened to Bambietta's mumbling which were an indistinct assembly of words resembling sleep-talk, Lil speaks of a speculation which leads to an answer to that incoherent gibberish. "Their destination could either be the Human World, or Soul Society…. If that strange Shinigami is involved, then it's probably the latter. Assuming that is really the case, this may be a chance to meet up with Candi and co." "So, what are we gonna do? We should at least go and check it out right?" "Yeah, but we'll wait until after they've made a huge scene. While the eyes of the Shinigami are distracted by that Hollow bunch, first thing we have to do is get hold of Candi and Meni's whereabouts." Thus, the Quincy survivors also began to move into operation. Little did they know that their rescue subjects, Candice and Meninas, were in the midst of being drawn into the conflict caused by that "Hollow bunch".

Soul Society - Squad 1 Barracks. "Well then, I'll just be going out for a bit too, can I ask you to take care of things for me while I'm gone, Nanao chan?" Faced with Kyōraku who had just uttered that while putting on his braided hat, Nanao posed a question out of curiosity. "…? Where will you be heading out to? There's nothing of the sort scheduled for today…" "It's just a little trip to the Central 46, and the Kinin Noble Assembly." "……!" Realising the significance behind that destination, Nanao watches Kyōraku with a nervous expression. "Don't make such a grim face. It's not like I'm going to die." "But… we haven't made any arrangements for that yet have we?" "Ah, it was my intention to make the necessary arrangements properly. But hearing Momo's report, I got a bit of an uneasy feeling." Quietly casting his eyes down, Kyōraku then smiled in order to reassure Nanao. "Anyway, Ukitake would probably scold me." "Ukitake san…would?" At Nanao's words, Kyōraku smiled wryly as he continued to speak. "Because that guy was a good-natured person (i.e. gave people the benefit of the doubt/saw the good in others). Well, I think that was one of Ukitake's qualities which I do not possess." Whilst reminiscing about his deceased friend, Kyōraku turned his attention to memories further in the past. "It was a long time ago, me, Ukitake and that Tokinada fellow were all classmates at the Academy. Tokinada was an individual who didn't particularly stand out, he was neither praised nor admonished by Yama-jii, he passed the time almost like a shadow… but as for Ukitake, he would quite commonly make conversation even with a guy like that. Maybe on Ukitake's side he was considered a friend. That's how it was until a certain incident occurred post-graduation.… No, perhaps Ukitake was like that even after it occurred." The 'certain incident' likely refers to the case in which Tokinada had slaughtered his own wife and comrade. Without asking for details, Nanao who presumed as much patiently waited for Kyōraku to continue speaking. "For the mere reason that they were cherry blossoms of the same year*, Ukitake was even willing enough to have faith in that Tokinada guy. If only he had a change of environment, if only he was given some kind of opportunity, then one day he would surely be reformed. That man will definitely come to confront the crimes he has committed from the bottom of his heart, Ukitake would say." (*TN -- "Cherry blossoms of the same year" is a way of saying "classmates" here, but it has more connotations in that it suggests one would fall and die like the petals of a cherry blossom for the sake of one's peers.) "That's…"

"I on the other hand, was not able to place that kind of faith in him. Having said that, in those days I was not able to kill Tokinada either. The time has come to finally put my foot down regarding those issues I have been sitting on the fence about. It's as simple as that." Despite sensing a turbulent air from the implication of the words "in those days", Nanao did not question his intentions by the hunch that Kyōraku's resolution was present among those few words. "Considering the fact that not only has an unpleasant task been forced upon him, but that he may also have been sent on a fool's errand on top of that… it's possible that I have wronged Hisagi kun." Just as Kyōraku was saying that, Okikiba who had finished delivering instructions to squad 2, had returned. "Hey, Okikiba san. I'm just about to run a few erra-… what's wrong?" In response to Kyōraku who noticed that Okikiba's expression had become stern, the second vice captain presented his report with a tense countenance. "It appears that a request for a Gentei Kaijo has been put forward from Hisagi Shūhei who left for Karakura Town." "…Gentei Kaijo? That's pretty drastic." "It seems this decision is based on the grounds that unidentified hostile forces have appeared… but according to the observation unit, when a reply was issued in order to grant permission, the correspondence was interrupted midway. Furthermore, all equipment that was observing Karakura Town has had their communications entirely cut-off, at present Karakura Town is said to have entered an isolated state…" Confronted with this report which was a matter of far greater concern than originally imagined, Kyōraku pulled a frown, despite this he responded without losing his nerve in the slightest. "…What about squad members Yuki Ryūnosuke and Madarame Shino who have been deployed to Karakura Town?" "Yes, in the same way, communication with them has been cut-off." "Please make contact with the Shinigami stationed in neighbouring towns and instruct them to report on the current situation… Nanao chan, I'm sorry but, since the number of matters which must be dealt with has increased, can I ask you to go with him?" "Understood!" With a firm nod Nanao and Okikiba exit the room in order to prepare, after following them with his eyes until they were out of sight, Kyōraku muttered to himself with a more serious expression than usual. "This is a troublesome turn of events huh…" . . . "…That guy Tokinada, may have gained the initiative by striking first."

[ourexes]

The "GIRLS" you hate are not on TV

Why the actual HBO show and its showrunner do not match the ones in your head.

              It’s so funny-slash-tragic that the overwhelming majority of people who hate Girls most adamantly are actually hating on a completely different show. One that must air in their minds whenever they get really angry at Lena Dunham or at Starbucks, but not on HBO at ten on Sundays.

               The latter is a half-satirized, half-empathy-demanding study on a very particular group of young women, with no intention or desire to represent the whole of either the millennial or female experiences—an impossible venture. Only that of these ultra-specific, oftentimes obnoxious four characters. Yet after six seasons of endless debate, many still don’t seem to get this.

               In preparation for the finale, I recently spent an afternoon scouring YouTube for old clips from the series, and in that dream-like coma made the always perilous and ill-advised decision to scroll down and scan the comments—if anyone cares to know, the post in question was a hilarious car-ride scene involving a Maroon 5 sing-along and Shoshanna’s thoughts on female presidential candidates. After some obligatory praise for Adam Driver’s character—the only dude involved—one observation with exactly forty defiant, icy blue upvotes read: Does Lena Dunham even listen to what comes out of her mouth?!

               Now, when I stumble upon things like these, me being the big boy that I am, my soul sinks a little—and unbidden red fury rises in its stead. Well, very confused person, A) Yes, she does, because this was actually put on paper many months in advance, perhaps even by herself, unless it was an improvised bit, and at any rate B) It’s really coming out of Hannah’s mouth, her character, the part she’s playing, and not hers. This is a scripted television series, not The Hills. Does not one of these people know the difference?

               In a wonderful piece by Jia Tolentino for The New Yorker two weeks ago, she attributes this tendency to conflate the two to the show’s ability to craft such raw, fully-fledged characters and stories. She argues that the writing and directing are so excellent, audiences can’t tell the difference between these scenes and real life. That’s high praise for a series with the naturalistic instincts and sensibilities of this one—for any scripted show, one would say, save for maybe Game of Thrones—, and a much more optimistic theory than the next most plausible one: sexism, and generational side-eye. These guys simply could not believe that a twenty-four-year-old woman could create a thoughtful, poignant fictional world, instead of the real-life version of UnReal’s very fake The Bachelor. Could she be capable of some actual, what’s the word? Self-awareness? Could she and her co-stars portray such narcissistic characters without they themselves being just as shallow? No, impossible. She doesn’t even look like a model! She must be a mess.

               Yes, it was mighty surprising to these folks when HBO—Deadwood-, The Sopranos-, Game of Thrones-, all-these-shows-these-macho-men-revere-HBO—succumbed to Dunham’s tricks, letting themselves be fooled by this chick’s—what, wanton sex-appeal? No, we’ve already discarded that. Um, art-world connections? Yes, HBO was tripping over itself to greenlight her pilot after that one.

               It’s so exhausting when everybody alive in this planet insists on having strong opinions about a TV show of which not even half of them have watched a single minute. Maybe a quarter of those have seen an episode, or two—if we’re being charitable. And then maybe ten percent, or five, actually understood what they were watching.

               And then they liked it—or they didn’t. Maybe it tickled their fancy, or they respectfully concluded that this wasn’t for them. But that makes Girls a perfect metaphor for the West’s current political climate—brace yourselves for we are reaching peak Girls think-piece here—: how can we have meaningful conversations about any one issue if we can’t even agree on what’s true and what isn’t? How can we talk about Girls, ultimately a piece of art, a work of fiction on premium cable, if we’re never even looking at the same show?

               A good illustrative example of this disconnect lies in the line that will likely go down as the show’s most memorable (and no, sadly it’s not “It was nice to see you. Your dad is gay”.) Near the end of the very first episode, an intoxicated Hannah rushes to her parents’ hotel room to hand them her manuscript, and announces that, while she doesn’t want to freak them out, she thinks that she may be the voice of her generation. “Or at least a voice”, she continues, “of a generation”.

               This comically self-aggrandizing statement is meant to be a joke on Hannah—who, it bears repeating, is on drugs in this scene—, on the complete lack of self-awareness that would come to characterize all the major players in the series, and most of the humor. But that didn’t stop smug bloggers and hot-takers from reading it as a mission statement by Dunham herself, all lines between reality and fiction be damned. In related news, Bryan Cranston cooks meth in his backyard.

               It is telling that these misunderstandings extend to Ms. Dunham as a creator and public figure. She first faced backlash for building a show that was ostensibly white—lambasted to an extent, it’s worth noting, that probably no other series in the history of television ever has or ever will be—, and supposedly trying (and of course failing) to act as a spokesperson for every woman in her twenties—an extremely lazy and outright inaccurate take, as we’ve established.  Never mind her much-repeated explanations that she, like so many of her peers, was only writing about her own experience—by definition limited—; and her willingness to engage with these conversations in a significant way, using them as a chance to learn; never acting dismissive or over-protective of her creative property. A willingness translated into attempts to bring on more non-white actors in guest-starring roles, her constant vouching for creators and storytellers of color (and of different genders, religions and sexualities) to be given the same chances that she got—a sentiment turned into tangible action with her feminist newsletter Lenny Letter, and her production company A Casual Romance, which provide a platform for those who lack one (both projects a result of her collaboration with Girls executive producer Jenni Konner)—and her own admission that, looking back, she “never want[s] to see another poster that’s four white girls”.

               And yet, has any of this been successful in appeasing the naysayers? Not a bit. Both Girls- and Lena Dunham-fueled loathing seems to exist in a stagnant pond near a fast-flowing river: unable to grow or morph into anything else, and unable to ever be challenged or debunked by the goings-on of the actual waters. Not unlike those liberal and conservative bubbles we keep hearing so much about.

               So, aside from the admittedly misguided remarks she sometimes makes in public (for which she tends to apologize), and a healthy little dose of envy towards her privileged status as a well-to-do white woman (which she seems aware of), the Lena Dunham you so vehemently hate probably does not exist either.

               This whole piece is not an attempt to shut down any criticism you might want to level at Girls if you haven’t consumed the sixty plus half-hours of content available—there’s a very important discussion about diversity that you’d still be rightfully invited to, for one (though I would still beg you to listen to what the people behind the scenes have to say on the matter, so that it is in fact a debate and not a monologue). But when we talk about the quality of the show, its value, again, as a work of art (and it is sad that so few of the conversations around it have actually been about this), if you haven’t even seen it—or you have, but refuse to engage with what it’s trying to tell you—, how to put this gently? Just shut up.

               You do not need to have opinions about every other thing under the sun (this is a hard concept for a lot of people to grasp, I know. I blame capitalism). And if you do, we certainly don’t need to hear them all. Girls is famously not a show for the faint of heart. Nor is it one for the lazy hot-take pitchers or the confirmation-bias-hungry. I mean, sure, you can still watch it—but it’ll be an entirely different piece.

               Having informed opinions to contribute to the conversation takes work. Work no one is forcing you to do—not every piece of culture needs to appeal to you, and not every Summer best seller or successful movie franchise requires your input. So, stop being lazy and make an effort to listen, to understand why a group of people have assembled all these different pieces to put together the product in front of you, what their goal is and whether they achieve it—and where, and how—, and how you might be expected to react to all this; or shut up, quit clogging the Internet, and put on Bones or whatever.

Find this post and more here.

[another-writer]

Begin Again: Chapter 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 End Word count: 2,373 Warnings: a couple of swear words, mention and brief description of a panic attack (Tags at the end)

Bucky had been standing at the head of the bench press spotting Steve for the past twenty minutes, only half concentrating on his friend. Steve could handle dropping the weight on himself, probably. His mind was still reeling from the conversation he had had with you last night on the balcony. He had woken up at two in the morning and had ran into you in the kitchen when he got up to make himself some green tea to calm himself down.

He figured Sam had been exaggerating, but dammit the tea actually helped. 

Bucky knew that as much as you liked to talk, you also treasured your peace and so he hadn’t expected for your eyes to widen momentarily as you took in his panic-stricken form. You had been in the compound for … almost a month? And yet it was so easy to open up to you.

‘What are you thinking so hard about?’ Steve panted. 

Bucky blinked, losing his staring contest with the wall opposite. ‘Nothing,’ 

‘If you wanted to ask her out, she’d say yes.’

Bucky snapped out of his daze, looking down at his friend, but stayed calm. Steve was a dork but he was also observant, especially when it came to his teammates. Bucky wasn’t surprised that Steve picked up on his crush. 

‘I don’t think so,’ Bucky replied, abandoning Steve on the bench and hooking up a punching bag at the opposite end of the room. ‘She’s just being friendly.’

Steve smirked. ‘She doesn’t take the time to coax everyone back to sleep, Buck.’

Bucky blushed furiously. ‘How’d you know about that? And she doesn’t do it all the time, just happened like twice.’ 

‘Still, that’s more than enough.’

Bucky tried to suppress his broad smile. ‘You know she told me to screw Hydra,’ he chuckled.

‘What?’ Steve laughed breathlessly, resting the bar in place and sitting up.

‘No seriously, it was awesome,’ Bucky said. ‘I mean, I appreciate everyone’s patience but I think I needed to hear that.’

‘You’re only proving my point,’ Steve said knowingly. 

Bucky made a face and shook his head. ‘We’re friends, Steve, but I don’t think she’d want someone with so much baggage. Relationships are different.’

‘You’re just talking hypothetically,’ Steve argued. 

‘Steve, she -’ Bucky scowled. ‘She’s like the sun, y’know? She’s so good at everything I’m terrible at and she’s so smart and she’s gonna graduate from college and have this fancy high-tech job and fucking live this life that I can’t be a part of because I’m still trying to learn what the fuck this century even is!’

Steve surveyed his friend as he voiced all his thoughts that had been accumulating for the past few weeks; maybe longer, maybe since he had come out of cryo in Wakanda. It wasn’t news to Bucky that his experience under Hydra was an unfortunate, horrific chain of events that were never a result of his own doing, and although Bucky was still healing from his past he didn’t quite need to be comforted as much on the issue. It was that Bucky felt like he was falling behind; it was combination of his PTSD and his frustration with his PTSD, and the incredibly rational fear of his captors and the organisation they were part of. Bucky was just scared. 

‘I really like her but I like being her friend and I don't ... I don't want to push my luck.’

After three weeks of living in the compound, the butterflies in your stomach were getting increasingly harder to ignore. Around you, Bucky completely eased into this charming, dorky, guy whose smile could reverse climate change and outshine the sun. 

The worst part was that there was a completely rational part of you that was content with being Bucky’s friend - not only that, but that part of you knew that it was the best thing for him. The man was only just starting to adjust to life here after seventy years spent as a weapon, two spent alone trying to salvage bits and pieces of himself to construct a new level of normalcy, and then ending up in the middle of a crisis resulting in being sent back into cryo. Bucky didn’t need a love life, he needed a friend (besides mum-friend Steve) and you were more than happy to fill in the blanks. 

And then there was the irrational, irritating part of you that wanted nothing more than for Bucky to grab you and kiss you until you couldn’t breathe. You wanted everything you had with him now - the times when you taught him basic mechanics, binge-watching Parks and Recreation after everyone had gone to sleep, midnight pizzas, and drag races (him in one of Stark’s flashy cars, you on your first born child-slash-motorcycle) … You just wanted to kiss him while you did all of that. 

And of course there was the one most poignant worst moment of your life where you and Bucky were driving together just to get some time away from the bustle of the compound; the sun was setting, highlighting the sky with brilliant fiery oranges and golden hues and the light kissed his skin and made his eyes glow like stars or water when the moonlight hit it just right. There was a comfortable silence in the car, save for the music coming from your phone which you had plugged into the speaker system. You were passing through the older, more crooked part of Brooklyn when Bucky knitted his eyebrows and said -

‘I think I used to live here.’

You turned in the passenger’s seat to face him. ‘Really? How can you tell?’

Bucky turned the car back around, circling around the block. ‘There’s gotta be a street sign somewhere,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Yeah, look!’

Bucky ended up parking the car on the pavement. You both got out and he lead you down between two decrepit apartment buildings; the fire escapes were rusting, black paint chipped, and the brickwork was starting to crumble. Still, with the way the setting sun was hitting the buildings and casting long shadows from the window panes across the walls, it was picturesque. 

Bucky made a point of walking next to you, so close that your arms brushed together. He had his hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket.

‘It used to be kinda sketchy,’ he admitted by means of explanation. ‘But Steve and I lived close to each other and there was this lady who lived with her niece next door and they were always real nice to us. Steve and I used to babysit her niece in the summer while she was at work …’

You smiled at him as he spoke endlessly about his days here. It was the first time he had told you memories of his past before Bucharest, before Hydra, before that period of time where his lifeline knotted and frayed and unraveled. You knew that Steve must have been aiding Bucky in regaining his memories and that there was a time where Bucky held no emotion for the things that he remembered while he tried to place himself back in some sort of timeline, but right here you sensed that Bucky knew he had reasons to be happy. It was all you could ever really ask for, all you realised you wanted for him.

Bucky broke off his sentence, looking at you and realising you had been staring at him. ‘And, yeah, that’s - that’s how we …’

You smirked at his blush and looked away. 

‘What?’ Bucky ducked his head down, smiling nervously, that animated glint still prevalent in his eyes.

You shook your head lightly unable to stifle your smile. ‘Your Brooklyn accent was getting really strong there.’

Living in the compound also meant picking up on the habits of your housemates, meaning you soon found that your window of solidarity rested between one and five o’clock in the morning. No one slept before eleven; people would start to wake at five; no one slept after nine a.m. (except Wanda who, like you, appreciated the art of sleeping until the sun was high in the sky sometimes. You really liked Wanda); Between eleven at night and one in the morning, Sam, Natasha, and Bucky would be playing video games and binge-eating. You loved the team but you also loved being alone sometimes. 

Which was why you were surprised to see Steve in the kitchen at two in the morning. If not asleep, he should have been in the gym.

‘Shouldn’t you be beating the living sand out of a punching bag, Cap?’ you asked as you dug around in the fridge looking for last night’s leftovers. You’d be damned if Sam got to the vegetable lo mein before you did.

‘I wanted to talk to you,’ he replied. 

‘How’d you know I’d be awake?’

‘FRIDAY monitors our activity,’ said Steve smiling somewhat tauntingly; his arms were folded over his chest. ‘I figured a genius such as yourself would know that over a hundred year old man.’

You rolled your eyes. ‘What do you want, Steve?’

‘What’s going on between you and Bucky?’

You choked on the mouthful of noodles, eyes streaming as you took several sips of water to calm yourself down. 

‘What?’ you coughed.

Steve seemed completely unphased by your shock. He didn’t say anything. 

‘Me … Bucky and I - no, there’s nothing,’ you said trying to sound calm.

Steve stayed quiet.

‘I’m serious,’ you emphasised. 

Steve blinked. 

You scoffed. ‘I think Barnes is a little too old for me, Cap, no thanks. We’re just friends, I’m catching him up on something called the twenty-first century, mother, so - I don’t think so.’

There was another beat of silence where your heartbeat pounded in your ears and blood crept up your neck, a blush colouring your cheeks.

Steve quirked an eyebrow and smiled. ‘He’s the same way.’

You paused. ‘What?’

‘He likes you.’

You shook your head and smiled self-deprecatingly. ‘I know that relationships work a little differently now but you’re reading too much into this, Cap. Bucky and I are friends.’

‘I haven’t seen him like this - ever,’ Steve added. ‘Even when we were in high school, Bucky was never this carefree.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Steve,’ you said firmly. ‘I don’t even like him, I have the emotional range of a grape.’

‘That’s not true.’ The bastard didn’t even acknowledge your grape comment. 

‘Steve, I’m not some saving grace that’s gonna get Bucky out of whatever pit he’s in.’

‘That’s the point though, that’s why he likes you,’ Steve implored. ‘Bucky’s been through hell and all he wants is to move on from that. Stark and Natasha thought it best to throw him into missions to get his mind focused but you’re grounding him. I don’t wanna sound dramatic -’

‘You are dramatic, Captain I-Don’t-Need-A-Parachute,’ you grumbled.

‘But you’re basically giving Bucky a reason to be happy here.’

‘Anyone who makes that guy a new arm would,’ you muttered. ‘And that doesn’t mean that he feels anything for me.’

‘You don’t see the way he looks at you,’ Steve argued, ‘and he’s too shy to say anything.’

You stared at him, speechless, with your arms folded, your snack abandoned on the kitchen counter. How does he look at me? The question was on the tip of your tongue but …

‘Bucky’s nice and all, Steve, but I don’t think he’s interested,’ you mumbled. ‘Now,’ you cleared your throat, ‘if you aren’t going to damage Tony’s gym equipment, then I will.’ 

On your way out, you passed through the dead silent corridor, pausing when you noticed that Bucky’s door was ajar. Approaching cautiously, with a stealth Natasha would be proud of, you peered through the gap.

Bucky was sitting on the edge of his bed hunched forward with his head in his hands breathing raggedly; Natasha was sitting next to him, close but not touching. You could hear her murmuring words you couldn’t understand - she was speaking in Russian. You remembered Natasha once saying that she wanted to give Bucky some positive affiliation with fragments of his past, including the language of Bucky’s days as the Winter Soldier.

Bucky was rubbing his hand harshly over his heart. His eyes were screwed shut.

Natasha must have sensed you were there because she looked up and beckoned you closer; as if pulled by an invisible string, you complied and sat by Bucky’s left side.

‘Barnes, you okay?’ you breathed, brow creasing when he nodded without looking up.

‘Breathe through your nose,’ you said in the same tone. ‘Nice and slow.’ You did the motions with him. ‘In … and out …’

Bucky repeated your instructions and you could tell by the gradual ease in his shoulders that his breathing was starting to regulate.

‘What happened?’ you murmured to Natasha.

She bit her lip. ‘Panic attack,’ she replied almost silently.

Your first reaction, aside from concern, was a total lack of thought. You had no idea what to do or if you should have even interrupted. Natasha clearly seemed to have a handle on things, much better than you could have ever done. Despite your fast friendship with Bucky, talking him through a panic attack was not on your resume.

Apparently, Natasha didn’t think the same.

You took a deep breath and swallowed your nerves. You just needed Bucky to be okay.

You knelt down in front of him, one hand cupping the back of his neck and rubbing it gently with your thumb, and the other squeezing his knee. Keeping one hand on his neck, you brought the other to his chin, prompting him to look at you. His eyes were circled with darkening shadows and were streaming with fatigue. You smiled softly at him, brushing the hair at the nape of his neck soothingly.

‘I-it was -’

‘You’re fine,’ you hushed. ‘Breathe now, tell me later, yeah? We’ve got all the time in the world,’ you smirked gently.

It was like clockwork the way you were with him.

‘C’mon,’ you prompted, handing him a glass of water that Natasha had left next to you ont he floor. ‘Small sips.’

You could feel another set of eyes boring into you and you shifted your eyes past Bucky’s figure and saw Steve watching you with a raised brow and a knowing smirk - past the despondency he felt for his friend - and then retreating to his room.

You ignored him, pushing his words to the back of your mind. You didn’t need his assumptions that Bucky felt anything non-platonic towards you; right now you just wanted Bucky to get his breathing back to normal and get some sleep.

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